INDISCRETIONS' 
OF  LADY  SUSAN 


OP  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  AW 


-, 


'INDISCRETIONS' 
OF   LADY  SUSAN 

[LADY  SUSAN  TOWNLEY] 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  :      :      :     :      :  MCMXXII 


Copyright,    1922,  by 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


TO  STEVE 

THIS    BOOK    IS    DEDICATED, 

BEING 

SOME   MEMORIES  OF  TWO  HAPPY    LIVES 
IN    WHICH    HE    PLAYED    A  GREAT  PART 


2133214 


Contents 

PAGE 
CHAPTER  I 

LOOKING  BACK        .        .  :     .        .        .        »        .        .      n 

I  raise  the  Curtain  with  tales  of  my  grandfather,  and  stories  of  my 
father  and  his  family,  including  myself. 

CHAPTER  II 
LISBON    . 33 

Lisbon  in  the  days  of  King  Carlos — People  I  met  there,  and  how 
I  once  diplomatically  fainted  to  avoid  trouble  with  a  German 
swashbuckler. 

CHAPTER  in 
BERLIN    .        .        .  '      .        «        .        «        .        .        •      39 

Berlin  society  as  I  knew  it — Recollections  of  the  Empercr  Frederick, 
and  of  the  ex- Kaiser  before  and  after  he  came  to  the  throne — 
How  Cecil  Rhodes  directed  the  Kaiser's  ambitions  towards 
Baghdad — What  the  English  in  Berlin  suffered  during  the  Boer 
War,  and  how  the  Kaiser  wanted  to  show  us  how  to  win  it. 

CHAPTER  IV 
ROME      .        .        .        .        .        .        ...  '     .        .  71 

We  are  transferred  to  Rome — The  tragedy  of  King  Humbert — I 
see  the  pagan  relics  of  Rome  with  Professor  Boni,  and  have  a  private 
audience  with  the  Pope. 

CHAPTER  V 
PEKING   ..........      78 

The  fascination  of  China — Humours  of  my  Chinese  cooks  that 
were  not  always  amusing — I  become  friendly  with  the  famous 
Empress-Dowager  and  am  admitted  to  the  intimacy  of  her  Palace 
— The  pitiful  little  Emperor — The  belated,  fantastic  funeral  of 
Li  Hung  Chang— A  lightning  trip,  and  the  bet  I  won  of  Sir  Claude 
Macdonald. 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  VI 
AN  INTERLUDE 121 

CHAPTER  VII 
CONSTANTINOPLE 126 

Constantinople  from  within — Abdul  Hamid,  the  little  wizened  old 
despot,  his  subtle  cruelties  and  cowardice  in  private  and  public 
life — The  secrets  of  the  harem,  and  the  bitter  cry  of  the  Turkish 
women. 

CHAPTER  VTII 
IN  THE  HOLY  LAND         .        .  .        .        .150 

A  tour  through  the  Holy  Land — Wonders  of  the  Holy  City — 
A  caravan  journey  to  Damascus — Pilgrims  returning  from  Mecca — 
How  the  Kaiser  looted  Palestine. 

CHAPTER  IX 
AMERICA 169 

Washington,  the  Mecca  of  diplomatists — We  are  eulogized  at 
first  by  the  American  Press — What  America  is  like — Its  hurry 
and  social  ambition — American  wives  and  their  husbands — A 
visit  to  the  Bowery — Opium  dens — A  lost  Englishwoman — How  I 
offended  some  American  journalists — What  they  said  of  me  and 
what  I  think  of  them. 

CHAPTER  X 
THE  ARGENTINE .    200 

Racing  in  the  Argentine — "  The  wickedest  city  in  the  world  " — 
The  prudishness  of  Argentine  women — Love-making  as  it  is  done 
— A  delightful  visit  to  a  great  estancia — A  remarkable  Devonshire 
family  and  how  the  father  of  it  was  tamed. 

CHAPTER  XI 
BUCHAREST 221 

When  Carmen  Sylva  was  Queen  of  Rumania — What  she  did  for  her 
people — The  beauty  and  charm  of  Princess  Marie,  now  Queen 
of  the  Rumanians — Social  life — Peculiar  views  of  marriage — 
The  Huns  in  Bucharest — Mr.  Lloyd  George  on  M.  Clemenceau,  and 
M.  Clemenceau  on  Mr.  Lloyd  George. 


CONTENTS  7 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XII 
PERSIA 233 

To  Persia— Strange  tales  of  Shah  Nasr-ed-Din — The  boy  who  did 
not  want  to  be  king — His  coronation — Pictures  of  Teheran — An 
exciting  and  perilous  journey  to  London  and  back. 

CHAPTER  XIII 
BELGIUM 254 

My  work  for  the  Censorship  in  London — We  go  to  The  Hague — 
British  prisoners  of  war — A  visit  to  Zeebrugge — I  follow  up  the 
retiring  Germans — Bruges — The  underground  club  of  the  U-boat 
officers — An  eye-witness  of  how  Captain  Fryatt  went  to  his  death — 
The  devastation  of  War — The  tragic  glory  of  Ypres,  and  how 
the  King  of  the  Belgians  re-entered  the  martyred  town. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
HOLLAND         .  .        .        .     |  .        .        .        .    280 

The  end  of  the  War — How  the  fugitive  ex-Kaiser  came  to  Maarn, 
and  how  by  chance  I  saw  him  arrive — The  story  of  the  little 
Dutch  soldier  who  would  not  let  him  cross  the  frontier— The  out- 
cast Emperor — Where  the  Germans  had  been — Rejoicing  in 
Antwerp  and  Brussels — The  Belgian  King  has  his  own  again — 
Tales  of  the  German  Revolution — Threats  of  revolution  in  Hol- 
land—Queen Wilhelmina's  courage — That  tired  feeling. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  'INDISCRETIONS'  OF  LADY  SUSAN   .1        .        .        .    306 

INDEX    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .         .        .313 


List  of  Illustrations 


FACING 
PAGE 


Lady  Susan  Townley  (from  a  Pencil  Drawing)  .  Frontispiece 

Quidenham  Hall  (from  an  old  engraving)  ....  24 
The  late  King  Charles  of  Portugal,  assassinated  February  i, 

1908.         .  ,       .         .         .         .         .         .         .         -32 

The  Queen  of  Portugal     .        .        .         .         ...  36 

The  Kaiser  (the  photo  is  signed  in  English)       .         .         .56 
Monseigneur  Favier,  defender  of  Peitang  Cathedral  during 

the  siege  of  1900       .        .        .      :  .       '-•       ;  .        .  80 

Our  Chinese  Household,  Peking,  1900        .         .         .         .  88 

Yuan  Shih  K'ai 96 

Tung  Fu-hsiang  :    the  leader  of  the  Boxers  in  1900  .         .  104 

Count  Marshal  von  Bieberstein 128 

Sketch  of  "  Margot  "  by  Reggie  Lister  :  only  "  curio  "  saved 

from  our  fire     ........  144 

Wailing  Jews  at  the  Wall  of  Jerusalem     .         .         ,        ..  152 

Street  Scene  in  Jerusalem          .         .         .         .         .         .  156 

Doorway  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  Jerusalem      .  156 

Jerusalem,  1905        .         .         .         .                  .         .         .  156 

Street  Scene  in  Nazareth.         ......  160 

Our  Camp  at  Nazareth     .         .         .         .         ...  160 

Striking  Camp  at  Nabloos        .         .       .••<••        .         .  168 

Arabs  on  the  Road  to  Jericho.         .         .         .         .         .  168 

9 


io  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 

Medal  struck  by  the  Huns  to  commemorate  the  sinking  of 

the  Lusitania      .         .         .         «         •         .         •         .  176 

The  Queen  of  Rumania    .......  224 

British  Legation,  Teheran          .         .         .         ...»         •  240 

Damascus         .........  240 

The  reigning  Shah  of  Persia     .         .         .         .         .  248 

The  Author's  little  son,  Steve,  in  the  Native   Dress  given 

him  at  Teheran  in  1915,  by  the  Baktiari  Chief  .         .  252 

King  Albert  of  the  Belgians      .         .>                .         .         .  256 

D.  J.  Cardinal  Mercier,  Archbishop  de  Malines  .         .         .  272 
Medal  struck  in  Brussels  after  the  Armistice  to  commemor- 
ate services  rendered  to  Belgium  by   the   Marquis   de 

Villolobar  and  Mr.  Whitlock       .....  278 

Sir  Walter  Townley,  1919  (from  the  painting  by  Van  Weile)  288 

Lady  Susan  Townley,  1922 304 


INDISCRETIONS 
OF  LADY  SUSAN 


c  INDISCRETIONS'   OF   LADY   SUSAN 

CHAPTER  I 
LOOKING  BACK 

I  raise  the  curtain  with  tales  of  my  grandfather,  and  stories  of  my 
father  and  his  family,  including  myself. 

MY  grandfather,  George  Keppel,  sixth  Earl  of 
Albemarle,  was  born  in  1799.  I  remember  him 
quite  well.  He  was  always  a  delightful  raconteur,  and 
many  is  the  yarn  we  heard  from  him  at  Quidenham, 
when  in  the  winter  evenings  he  gathered  us  round 
him  before  the  old  library  fire.  He  would  tell  us 
how  as  a  child  he  had  been  frightened  into  obedience 
by  the  cry  of  "  Boney  is  coming !  "  and  he  recalled 
quite  clearly  the  alarm  produced  in  England  by  the 
avowed  intention  of  Napoleon  to  invade  our  country. 
As  a  boy  he  often  stayed  in  London  with  his  maternal 
grandmother,  the  Dowager  Lady  de  Clifford,  who  was 
governess  to  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  Wales.  She 
lived  at  No.  9,  South  Audley  Street,  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  the  wife  of  George,  Prince 
of  Wales.  It  was  in  this  house  that  he  was  first 
presented  to  the  Prince,  afterwards  George  IV,  a  tall, 
good-humoured  man  with  laughing  eyes,  pouting  lips 

and  a  well-powdered  wig  with  a  profusion  of  curls 

11 


12  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

and  a  very  large  pigtail  attached  to  it.  The  last  pig- 
tailed  Englishman,  within  my  grandfather's  recollec- 
tion, was  William  Keppel,  his  father's  first  cousin, 
who  was  equerry  to  George  IV,  in  whose  graces  he 
held  a  very  high  place.  The  Duke  of  York  once 
said  to  him,  apropos  of  his  hirsute  adornment,  "  Why 
don't  you  get  rid  of  that  old-fashioned  tail  of  yours  ?  ' 
"  From  the  feeling,"  he  replied  with  ready  wit,  "  that 
actuates  your  Royal  Highness  in  weightier  matters 
— the  dislike  to  part  with  an  old  friend !  " 

My  grandfather  spent  his  Easter  holidays  at  St. 
Anne's  Hill,  Chert sey,  with  Charles  Fox.  The  aged 
statesman  used  to  wheel  himself  about  in  a  chair,  out 
of  which  he  was  never  seen.  All  the  morning  he  was 
invisible,  transacting  the  business  of  his  office,  but 
at  one  o'clock,  the  children's  dinner-hour,  he  appeared 
in  their  dining-room  for  his  daily  basin  of  soup.  Lunch 
over,  he  became  for  the  rest  of  the  day  their  exclusive 
property.  They  adjourned  to  the  garden,  where  trap- 
ball  was  the  favourite  game.  As  Fox  could  not 
walk  he  of  course  had  the  innings,  the  children  fagging 
and  bowling.  The  great  statesman  loved  these  games 
and  laughed  with  glee  when  he  sent  a  ball  into  the 
bushes  to  add  to  his  score,  but  when  bowled  out  he 
argued  shamelessly  to  prove  that  he  never  ought  to 
have  been !  It  was  in  Mr.  Fox's  carriage  that  my 
grandfather  was  sent  after  the  Easter  holidays  to 
his  first  school.  He  was  then  barely  seven. 

He  subsequently  went  to  Westminster  School, 
where  he  spent  seven  years,  during  which  he  used 
to  get  week-end  leave  for  visiting  in  turn  his  two 
grandmothers,  Lady  de  Clifford,  above  mentioned, 
and  the  Dowager  Lady  Albemarle,  whom  he  described 
as  a  kind-hearted  woman,  but  not  attractive  to  her 


LOOKING  BACK  13 

grandchildren.  He  remembered  having  his  ears  boxed 
by  her  after  his  return  from  the  Waterloo  campaign. 

But  Lady  de  Clifford,  very  unlike  the  Berkeley 
Square  grandmother,  was  a  staunch  ally  of  her  little 
grandson  and  fought  his  battles  against  all  comers. 

In  January,  1805,  when  the  Princess  Charlotte  of 
Wales  had  completed  her  ninth  year,  an  establish- 
ment was  formed  for  her  education  and  placed  under 
the  control  of  Lady  de  Clifford. 

Grandfather  was  for  years  after  that  a  constant 
playmate  of  the  Princess,  of  whom  he  had  many  a 
curious  anecdote  to  tell.  She  was  excessively  violent 
in  her  disposition,  but  easily  appeased,  very  warm- 
hearted, and  never  so  happy  as  when  doing  a  kindness. 
From  her  he  received  his  first  watch,  his  first  pony 
and  many  a  top. 

When  she  went  out  shopping  with  Lady  de  Clifford, 
she  thought  it  very  amusing  to  assume  an  alias, 
and  on  these  occasions  would  take  the  name  of  young 
Keppel's  sister  Sophia;  but  her  own  free  and  easy 
demeanour  was  in  such  contrast  with  the  reserved 
and  timid  manner  of  the  little  girl  whose  personality 
she  borrowed,  that  nobody  who  knew  them  both 
could  possibly  have  been  deceived. 

On  Saturdays  Keppel  was  generally  the  guest  of 
the  Princess,  but  on  Sundays  she  returned  his  visits 
either  at  his  father's  house  at  Earl's  Court,  Brompton, 
or  at  Lady  de  Clifford's  villa  at  Paddington.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  the  Prince  of  Wales  honoured 
Lady  de  Clifford  with  his  company  at  luncheon. 
He  was  fond  of  good  living,  and  considered  her  cook 
an  artiste  in  her  own  line.  But  that  day  luncheon  was 
unaccountably  late,  and  the  old  lady  rang  the  bell 
violently.  When  the  meal  was  eventually  served, 


14  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  mutton-chop  was  so  ill-dressed  that  it  was  quite 
uneatable.  On  inquiry  it  was  discovered  that  the 
Princess  had  acted  as  cook  and  young  Keppel  as  her 
scullery  maid. 

In  her  visits  to  Earl's  Court  the  Princess  usually 
came  in  Lady  de  Clifford's  carriage,  and  remained, 
at  her  own  wish,  as  far  as  possible  incognito.  But 
once  she  arrived  in  her  own,  and  the  scarlet  liveries 
soon  betrayed  her  presence  to  the  curious  crowd 
without.  The  bystanders,  catching  sight  of  young 
Keppel  inside  the  railings,  called  to  him,  telling  him 
how  anxious  they  were  to  have  a  sight  of  the  Heiress 
Presumptive  to  the  throne.  The  boy  conveyed  their 
message  to  the  Princess. 

"  All  right !  they  shall  have  that  pleasure,"  was 
her  reply.  Slipping  out  of  the  garden  gate  into  the 
road,  she  ran  in  among  the  people  from  the  rear, 
craning  her  neck,  calling  upon  the  Princess  to  come 
out  and  be  looked  at !  Then  in  boisterous  spirits 
she  escaped  back  to  the  house.  On  another  occasion 
she  dragged  my  grandfather  off  to  the  stables  and 
then  saddled  and  bridled  a  horse  herself.  Armed 
with  a  whip  she  led  the  animal  into  the  yard.  Young 
Keppel  was  told  to  mount.  He,  nothing  loath,  obeyed  ; 
he  was  rather  proud  of  his  horsemanship.  But  before 
he  could  grasp  the  reins  and  get  his  foot  into  the 
stirrup,  she  gave  the  horse  a  tremendous  cut  with 
the  whip,  so  that  he  set  off  at  a  gallop  round  the 
confined  space  of  the  stable  yard.  My  grandfather 
clung  to  his  mane,  roaring  lustily.  He  hoped  by  hook 
or  by  crook  to  get  into  the  saddle,  but  his  cries  attracted 
the  rest  of  the  family  into  the  yard,  which  still  further 
frightened  the  beast,  so  that  he  threw  his  heels  into 
the  air,  sending  the  boy  flying  over  his  head.  The 


LOOKING  BACK  15 

poor  Princess  got  a  terrible  scolding  from  Lord  Albe- 
marle,  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his  boy,  which  so 
incensed  her  that  when  alone  with  him  again  she 
treated  the  father's  son  as  she  had  just  treated  the 
father's  horse  ! 

In  the  month  of  June,  1814,  my  grandfather  was 
present  in  London,  when  what  he  used  irreverently 
to  call  a  whole  menagerie  of  "  Lions  "  came  over 
in  the  persons  of  Allied  Sovereigns,  and  their  most 
distinguished  Generals,  to  visit  the  King,  whose  power- 
ful co-operation  had  enabled  them  to  hurl  from  the 
throne  the  mightiest  tyrant  who  ever  afflicted  the 
world. 

He  waited  on  Westminster  Bridge  to  see  the  pass- 
ing of  "  Blutcher,"  as  the  Londoners  used  to  call 
him.  After  an  hour's  wait  loud  cheering  was  heard 
on  the  Surrey  side,  accompanied  by  cries  of  "  Blutcher 
for  ever !  "  The  object  of  this  ovation  turned  out 
to  be  a  fat,  greasy  butcher  mounted  on  a  sorry  nag, 
carrying  a  meat  tray  on  his  shoulder.  Shortly  after- 
wards the  real  Marshal  appeared,  in  a  barouche  drawn 
by  four  horses.  The  crowd  gave  him  an  enthusiastic 
reception,  which  he  acknowledged  by  holding  out  his 
hand  to  be  shaken  by  the  men  and  kissed  by  the 
women.  A  century  later  Londoners  were  clamouring 
for  the  trial  of  the  German  Emperor. 

When  my  grandfather  first  went  to  Westminster 
School  a  lamp-iron  was  fixed  on  the  wall  outside  the 
house  where  he  boarded,  the  only  use  of  which  was 
to  assist  the  boarders  to  let  themselves  down  into 
College  Street  after  lock-up  hours.  He  took  kindly 
to  the  prevailing  fashion,  but  after  the  Christmas 
holidays  of  1814  he  found  on  his  return  that  the  wall 
had  been  considerably  heightened.  As  the  need 


16  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

for  surreptitious  exits  was  no  less  pressing  than 
formerly,  he  made  for  himself  a  "  Jacob's  ladder  " 
of  rope,  and  thus  provided  let  himself  down  with  even 
less  risk  than  before.  Unfortunately,  on  March  18, 
1815,  when  he  returned  from  the  play,  the  sight 
of  the  lay  figure  which  he  had  left  to  personate  him 
in  bed,  lying  in  confusion  on  the  floor,  proved  that 
his  escapade  had  been  discovered.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  a  letter  from  his  father  informed  him  that 
his  school-days  had  come  to  an  end.  He  was  expelled. 
He  was  then  still  wanting  three  months  to  complete 
his  sixteenth  year. 

His  father  decided  that  a  military  career  was  the 
one  best  suited  to  so  high-spirited  a  youth,  and  thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  a  month  or  two  later  he  received 
an  official  communication  "  On  His  Majesty's  Service," 
ordering  him  forthwith  to  proceed  to  Flanders  to 
join  the  third  battalion  of  the  I4th  Foot,  commanded 
by  Lieut.-Colonel  Tidy. 

Fourteen  of  the  officers  and  three  hundred  of  the 
men  of  this  regiment  were  under  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  they  looked  so  young  that,  when  drawn  up 
in  the  Square  at  Brussels  to  be  inspected  by  an  old 
General  of  the  name  of  Mackenzie,  he  no  sooner  set 
eyes  on  the  corps  than  he  called  out :  "  Well !  I 
never  saw  such  a  set  of  boys!  "  But  seeing  Tidy's 
annoyance  at  the  expression,  he  hastily  corrected 
himself,  saying :  "So  fine  a  set  of  boys,  both  officers 
and  men !  "  All  the  same,  he  could  not  reconcile 
it  with  his  conscience  to  send  such  a  lot  of  striplings 
on  active  service,  and  he  ordered  the  Colonel  to  join 
a  brigade  about  to  proceed  to  garrison  Antwerp.  Tidy, 
however,  wouldn't  have  it ;  he  entreated  Lord  Hill, 
who  was  passing,  to  save  so  fine  a  regiment  "  from 


LOOKING  BACK  17 

the  disgrace  of  garrison  duty."  Lord  Hill  appealed 
to  the  Duke  on  their  behalf,  who  reversed  the  sentence. 
Then  Tidy  gave  the  longed-for  word  of  command : 
"  Fourteenth  to  the  Front !  " 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  my  grandfather  was 
present  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 

He  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of  his  life,  for,  at  a 
critical  moment  of  the  battle,  his  regiment  was  ordered 
to  lie  down.  Their  square,  hardly  large  enough  to 
hold  them  when  standing,  was  too  small  for  them  in 
a  recumbent  position.  The  men  lay  packed  together 
like  herrings  in  a  barrel.  Not  finding  a  vacant  spot, 
Keppel  seated  himself  on  a  drum.  Behind  him  was 
the  Colonel's  charger,  who  nibbled  at  the  boy's  epaulette. 
Suddenly  his  drum  capsized  and  he  was  thrown  pros- 
trate with  the  sensation  of  a  terrific  blow  on  the 
cheek.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  thinking  half 
of  it  was  shot  away,  but  the  skin  was  not  even  broken. 
A  piece  of  shell  had  struck  the  horse's  nose  an  inch 
from  young  Keppel's  head,  killing  the  poor  beast 
instantly ;  it  was  from  the  horse's  embossed  bit 
that  he  received  the  staggering  blow  which  made 
him  think  he  was  wounded.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  was  uninjured. 

In  December,  1815,  his  regiment  was  ordered  home. 
Their  reception  in  England  was  cold,  a  great  contrast 
to  some  of  the  receptions  we  remember  during  the 
last  War.  The  country  was  satiated  with  glory  and 
brooding  over  the  bill  that  would  have  to  be  paid. 
Fighting  was  at  a  discount,  and  the  returning  heroes 
found  themselves  at  a  serious  disadvantage.  "  If 
we  had  been  convicts  disembarking  from  a  hulk  we 
could  hardly  have  met  with  less  consideration,"  my 
grandfather  used  to  say.  "  It's  us  as  pays  they 


i8  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

chaps,"  was  the  remark  of  a  country  bumpkin  watch- 
ing the  disembarkation,  and  this  expression  seemed 
to  voice  the  popular  feeling. 

As  soon  as  he  got  home  Keppel  tried  to  see  some- 
thing of  his  old  friend  Princess  Charlotte,  whose 
approaching  marriage  at  that  moment  engrossed 
all  thoughts.  Hearing  that  she  was  to  go  in  state 
to  the  Chapel  Royal  on  the  Sunday  before  her  wedding, 
he  went  to  the  Peers'  seat  and  looked  up  at  the  Royal 
pew.  She  caught  sight  of  him  instantly,  and  from 
under  the  shade  of  her  joined  hands  made  sundry 
telegraphic  signals  of  recognition  to  him.  When  the 
service  was  over,  he  ran  to  the  corner  of  St.  James's 
Street  to  see  her  pass.  She  kissed  her  hand  to  him 
as  she  drove  by,  and  continued  to  wave  to  him  in 
her  old  friendly,  informal  way  till  she  passed  out  of 
sight.  It  was  the  last  time  he  saw  her,  for  shortly 
afterwards  he  went  away  again  with  his  regiment 
and  was  absent  eighteen  months.  When  he  returned 
to  England  the  flags  of  all  the  ships  in  the  Channel 
were  flying  half-mast.  The  nation  was  mourning 
the  death,  in  childbirth,  of  the  young  Princess  whom 
it  had  fondly  looked  upon  as  its  future  queen. 

My  grandfather  remembered  quite  well  the  trial 
of  Queen  Caroline  of  Brunswick,  whom  George  IV 
tried  to  divorce  in  1820  by  Act  of  Parliament.  Indeed, 
he  was  an  eye-  and  ear-witness  of  all  that  passed  in 
that  celebrated  case,  for  he  was  at  the  time  equerry 
to  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  who,  though  excused  from 
attendance  on  the  plea  of  his  consanguinity  to  both 
parties,  yet  was  desirous  of  hearing  the  earliest  news 
possible  of  all  that  passed,  and  so  kept  young  Keppel 
travelling  backwards  and  forwards  between  Tunbridge 
Wells  and  London. 


LOOKING  BACK  19 

The  Queen's  coming  to  the  House  of  Lords  on  the 
opening  day  of  the  trial  was  heralded  by  a  confused 
sound  of  drums  and  trumpets.  She  was  received 
at  the  threshold  by  Black  Rod.  The  Peers  rose 
as  she  entered  and  took  her  seat  facing  the  Counsel 
on  a  chair  of  crimson  and  gilt.  Her  appearance 
was  not  prepossessing,  as  she  was  dressed  all  in  black, 
with  a  high  ruff  round  her  neck,  and  on  her  head  a 
bonnet  surmounted  by  a  huge  bunch  of  nodding 
ostrich  plumes.  She  wore  a  black  wig  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  curls,  which  fell  over  her  face.  Her  painted 
eyebrows  and  highly-rouged  cheeks  added  to  her 
bold  and  defiant  appearance.  Her  trial  lasted  many 
weeks.  When  the  first  witness  was  called,  the  Queen 
got  up,  threw  her  veil  completely  back,  and  stood 
with  her  arms  akimbo.  In  this  position  she  stared 
at  him  furiously  for  some  seconds,  then  bursting  into 
tears  rushed  screaming  from  the  House.  The  impres- 
sion made  upon  my  grandfather  was  that  she  suffered 
from  a  sudden  paroxysm  of  madness.  He  never 
forgot  the  scene.  She  did  not  reappear  that  day. 

In  the  course  of  the  trial  the  cashier  of  Coutts' 
Bank  was  called  to  attest  the  Queen's  signature, 
and  many  another  humiliation  she  had  to  bear.  The 
chief  witnesses  brought  against  her  were  low-born 
Italians,  who  appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  House  as 
respectable  as  fine  clothes  and  soap  and  water  could 
make  them !  They  were  kept  from  August  till 
November  close  prisoners  in  a  building  which  separated 
the  Houses  of  Parliament  and  was  known,  with  its 
enclosure,  as  "  Cotton  Garden."  Here  they  were 
guarded  by  a  strong  military  force,  and  their  provisions 
were  stealthily  introduced  by  night  for  fear  of  the 
London  mob,  who  would  have  torn  the  witnesses 


20  '  INDISCRETIONS  * 

to  pieces  if  they  could  have  got  hold  of  them.  Henry 
Brougham,  Attorney-General  to  the  Queen,  was  her 
fearless  advocate  and  conducted  her  defence.  In 
the  public  estimation  he  sacrificed  all  prospects  of 
professional  advancement  in  order  to  defend  the  cause 
of  a  cruelly  persecuted  woman — and  he  achieved 
his  end,  for,  on  November  6  the  House  divided 
on  the  second  reading  of  the  so-called  "  Pains  and 
Penalties  Bill,"  and  it  was  thrown  out  by  a  majority 
of  twenty  against.  This  virtual  defeat  of  the  Govern- 
ment was  celebrated  by  illuminations  and  other 
tokens  of  popular  rejoicings  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land,  for  the  people  insisted  upon 
seeing  in  the  Queen  only  an  ill-treated,  innocent 
and  loving  wife.  My  grandfather  accompanied  the 
Duke  of  Sussex  when  he  went  from  Tunbridge  Wells 
to  Brandenburg  House  to  pay  her  his  visit  of  con- 
gratulation. 

It  was  while  still  waiting  on  the  Duke  of  Sussex 
at  Kensington  Palace,  where  he  had  his  quarters  at 
that  time,  that  my  grandfather  remembered  seeing 
the  late  Queen  Victoria  as  a  small  child  of  seven.  He 
used  to  watch  the  little  Princess  from  his  window  play- 
ing in  the  Palace  gardens.  She  was  in  the  habit 
of  watering  the  flowers,  and  most  impartially  she 
divided  the  contents  of  her  watering-can  between 
the  flowers  and  her  own  little  feet. 

My  ancestors  were  much  favoured  in  old  days  by 
the  Royal  Family.  Thus  Bagshot  Park,  now  occupied 
by  the  Duke  of  Connaught,  was  given  by  George  II 
to  young  Keppel's  grandfather,  and  his  two  grand- 
uncles,  Augustus  and  William,  for  their  respective 
lives.  At  the  death  of  the  eldest  brother,  Lord  Albe- 
marle,  in  1772,  Bagshot  came  into  the  occupation 


LOOKING  BACK  21 

of  Admiral  Sir  Augustus,  afterwards  Viscount,  Keppel, 
but  he,  wishing  to  make  over  the  residence  to  George 
Ill's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  applied  to 
His  Majesty  for  a  renewal  of  the  grant,  which  request 
was  peremptorily  refused.  According  to  family  tradi- 
tion, the  King  was  so  rejoiced  at  being  able  thus  to 
defeat  the  wishes  of  his  brother,  for  whom  he  had 
no  kindly  feeling,  that  he  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of 
laughter,  so  long  and  uncontrolled  that  it  was  after- 
wards looked  upon  as  the  first  symptom  of  that  mental 
malady  of  which  the  unhappy  monarch  soon  after 
gave  sign. 

At  the  risk  of  wearying  my  readers  with  these 
tales  of  long  ago,  I  must  recall  one  or  two  more  of 
the  amusing  anecdotes  which  my  grandfather  used 
to  tell  us.  His  father  had  been  a  great  favourite 
of  William  IV,  from  whom  he  received  the  appoint- 
ment of  Master  of  the  Horse.  The  stud-house  was 
assigned  to  Lord  Albemarle  to  live  in,  and  there  the 
King  paid  him  frequent  visits,  on  which  occasions  my 
grandfather  was  often  present. 

The  King  was  very  fond  of  making  after-dinner 
speeches.  One  night  he  proposed  somebody's  health 
"  with  all  the  honours."  There  was  a  footman  at 
the  time  in  the  Royal  service  called  Sykes,  who  was 
as  fond  of  a  glass  of  wine  as  anyone  else  at  Court, 
and  on  this  occasion,  unmindful  of  the  tell-tale  mirror 
before  which  he  stood,  he  took  advantage  of  the 
King's  toast  to  toss  off  a  tumbler  of  claret  behind 
the  screen.  Unfortunately,  the  King  caught  sight 
of  his  reflection  in  the  act,  and  next  day  told  Albe- 
marle that  as  others  had  seen  it  also  he  had  better 
get  the  man  out  of  sight  for  a  time  till  the  affair  had 
been  forgotten.  So  Lord  Albemarle  sent  him  as  game- 


22  *  INDISCRETIONS ' 

keeper  to  a  remote  lodge  in  Windsor  Park,  whence 
he  gradually  climbed  back  into  the  Royal  service 
as  porter  at  the  equerry's  entrance  to  the  castle. 
It  is  said  that  some  people  have  greatness  thrust 
upon  them,  and  evidently  Sykes  was  one  of  these, 
for  he  was  destined  once  again  to  attract  public  atten- 
tion, and  this  in  a  most  comic  way.  A  party  of  North 
American  Indian  chiefs  came  { to  England,  and  being 
most  desirous  to  see  the  King,  travelled  down  for 
the  express  purpose  to  Windsor.  The  first  person 
they  fell  in  with  outside  the  Castle  was  Sykes,  taking 
a  mouthful  of  air  in  scarlet  coat  and  huge  gold  epau- 
lettes. The  Indians,  of  course,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  must  be  their  "  great  white  father/'  and  form- 
ing a  circle  round  him,  they  treated  the  astonished 
flunkey  to  their  best  war  dance.  This  incident,  for 
the  truth  of  which  I  cannot  vouch,  Punch  reproduced 
that  week  in  one  of  his  inimitable  cartoons. 

My  grandfather  was  one  of  the  crowd  who  saw 
Queen  Victoria  on  the  day  of  her  Proclamation.  He 
described  her  as  appearing  at  the  open  window  of 
the  Privy  Council  Chamber  in  St.  James's  Palace 
looking  on  the  quadrangle  nearest  Marlborough  House. 
Enthusiastic  cheers  greeted  the  young  Sovereign's 
first  appearance.  At  the  sound  of  the  first  shouts 
the  colour  faded  from  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  But  with  winning  courtesy  the  girl- 
Sovereign  bowed  her  acknowledgments  of  the  prof- 
fered homage. 

He  later  attended  Her  Majesty  as  groom-in-waiting, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  her  first  Parliament 
in  1838.  He  was  again  in  waiting  on  the  day  of 
her  Coronation,  and  on  that  of  her  marriage,  in  1840, 
with  Prince  Albert  of  Saxe-Coburg.  After  the  cere- 


LOOKING  BACK  23 

mony  he  accompanied  the  Royal  pair  to  Windsor, 
and  in  the  following  year  had  the  honour  of  being 
presented  by  the  Queen  herself  to  the  Princess  Royal, 
afterwards  German  Empress,  who  on  that  occasion 
was  a  baby  but  a  few  days  old  lying  in  her  cot ! 

My  grandfather  married  one  of  the  two  lovely  daugh- 
ters of  Sir  Coutts  Trotter,  the  other  being  married  to 
General  Lindsay,  of  Balcarres.  Keppel  was  a  Whig, 
Lindsay  a  Tory,  and  both  were  standing  for  Parlia- 
ment, one  on  each  side  of  the  Tweed.  Sir  Coutts, 
who  had  been  brought  up  a  strong  Tory,  didn't  know 
to  which  party  to  wish  success.  To  some  one  who 
asked  him  on  which  side  his  sympathy  lay,  he  responded 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment : 

"  Whether  Tory  or  Whig 
I  can't  say  for  my  life. 
I'm  a  Whig  in  East  Norfolk, 
A  Tory  in  Fife  !  " 

My  father  was  the  eldest  child  and  only  son  of  the 
young  Keppel  I  have  been  writing  about.  He  was 
born  in  1832,  the  same  year  as  Bob  Lindsay,  after- 
wards Lord  Wantage,  his  first  cousin,  their  mothers 
being  sisters.  As  my  father  had  no  brother,  the 
two  became,  and  remained  through  life,  inseparable 
friends.  Together  they  went  to  their  first  school,  a 
school  of  the  old  type,  where  the  master's  ill-humour 
was  vented  with  uncontrolled  tyranny  upon  his, 
pupils.  But  I  am  sure  nothing  could  have  suppressed 
such  an  irrepressible  pair  as  the  two  cousins.  Together 
they  went  on  to  Eton,  where  at  old  "  Judy  "  Durn- 
ford's  house  they  spent  many  happy  years  together, 
taking  their  studies  rather  easily,  but  becoming  most 
expert  Wet  Bobs  on  the  river.  They  left  Eton  the 
same  day  and  both  entered  the  Guards.  Thereafter 


24  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  varying  vicissitudes  of  their  two  lives  often 
separated  them  but  as  often  brought  them  together 
again,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  Volunteer  Service 
and  the  War  Office.  One  who  knew  them  well  as 
boys  and  young  men  used  to  speak  of  the  contrast 
they  made.  Bury,  my  father,  was  clever,  versatile, 
light-hearted,  brilliant  in  talk,  endowed  with  quick 
perception  and  capacity  to  master  any  subject  he 
took  up,  full  of  life  and  energy — while  Lindsay  was 
quieter  and  more  reserved,  but  strong  in  character 
and  steadfastness  of  purpose.  Perhaps  this  very 
contrast  made  the  bond  closer  which  united  them. 

My  own  earliest  recollections  of  my  father  take 
me  back  to  the  "  'seventies/'  when,  as  a  little  girl, 
I  played  in  his  study  with  his  paint  brushes  (he  was 
always  sketching  when  he  wasn't  writing)  or  listened 
at  table  to  his  stories  which  used  to  keep  everybody 
laughing.  He  had  a  fund  of  anecdotes,  and  such 
a  keen  sense  of  humour  that  his  own  delight  with 
the  story  he  was  telling  invariably  became  contagious 
amongst  his  auditors. 

He  had  met  and  married  my  mother,  a  daughter  of 
Sir  Allan  Macnab,  Prime  Minister  of  Canada,  during  the 
time  he  spent  in  that  country  as  A.D.C.  to  the  Gover- 
nor-General, Sir  Edmund  Head.  Canadian  brides  were 
a  novelty  in  England  at  that  time,  and  great  was  the 
excitement  in  London  society  at  the  news  of  this 
marriage.  My  mother  was  a  beautiful  girl,  and  soon 
won  her  place  in  the  affections  of  her  young  husband's 
family ;  but  she  must  have  had  her  trials  to  bear,  I 
fancy,  for,  from  being  her  father's  constant  companion 
in  Canada,  sharing  all  the  interests  and  anxiety  of 
his  high  office  (her  mother  had  died  when  she  was 
only  fourteen),  she  found  herself  suddenly  in  a  strange 


LOOKING   BACK  25 

land  the  wife  of  an  eldest  son,  under  the  careful 
chaperonage  of  a  rather  severe  and  very  dignified 
mother-in-law.  When  her  first  baby  was  expected 
she  was  treated  almost  as  an  invalid,  never  allowed 
to  go  out  except  in  the  carriage,  and  stair-climbing 
being  forbidden  her  by  Lady  Albemarle,  the  bell 
was  rung  and  a  pompous  pair  of  footmen  arrived 
with  a  carrying-chair  whenever  she  wanted  to  go 
upstairs ! 

Luckily  for  her,  she  and  my  father  only  spent  part 
of  the  year  at  Quidenham,  the  family  seat  in  Norfolk  : 
they  had  their  own  house  in  London,  first  in  Rutland 
Gate  and  afterwards  in  Prince's  Gate,  where  I  was 
born. 

Our  house  was  faced,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road,  by  the  Indian  Museum,  an  old  wooden  building 
at  that  time,  and,  to  our  childish  delight,  it  one  day 
caught  fire  and  burnt  to  the  ground.  I  remember 
hanging  out  of  the  nursery  window,  with  my  small 
sisters,  counting  the  fire-engines  which,  with  splendid 
dash,  raced  up  to  the  scene  of  the  conflagration  one 
after  another,  till  no  less  than  twenty-nine  had  been 
brought  into  operation.  Our  windows  became  so 
hot  that  at  one  moment  it  was  thought  the  fire 
might  spread  across  the  street,  but  the  hose  was 
played  upon  the  house  and  thus  was  averted  the 
necessity  of  a  hurried  exit,  which  would  have  placed 
the  crown  on  our  enjoyment. 

Many  years  we  lived  at  Prince's  Gate,  in  fact,  until 
my  dear  father  died  in  1893.  Six  months  of  the 
year  we  used  to  spend  in  town  when  Parliament  was 
sitting,  and  six  hi  the  country  at  a  place  called  Elm- 
hurst,  in  Hampshire,  quite  near  Bournemouth,  a 
house  my  father  bought,  and  there  we  spent  most 


26  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

of  our  childish  summers  till  he  succeeded  his  father 
and  we  went  to  Quidenham.  The  bi-annual  Sittings 
were  events  of  great  moment,  for  I  suppose  with  so 
many  children  (there  were  nine  of  us — three  boys  and 
six  girls)  it  was  considered  an  extravagance  to  have 
a  double  set  of  beds  for  all  the  babies,  so  our  cots  did 
double  duty  in  town  and  country,  and  the  night 
before  the  "  journey  "  we  slept  in  a  row  on  the  nursery 
floor  in  the  drawers  of  a  big  chest  which  did  duty 
as  beds. 

As  I  have  said,  we  were  nine  children,  and  we  fell 
naturally  into  three  groups.  There  were  "  the  boys," 
who  went  to  school  and  had  a  holiday  tutor;  the 
"  girls,"  my  three  elder  sisters,  who  had  a  school- 
room to  themselves  and  a  German  governess,  and 
"  the  babies/'  of  which  I  was  the  eldest,  who  had  a 
lower  schoolroom  and  a  French  governess. 

When  the  boys  came  home  for  the  holidays  it  may 
be  imagined  that  we  had  a  "  full  house,"  and  great 
were  the  pranks  we  played,  regardless  of  the  awful 
consequences  of  them. 

For  my  father  and  mother  were  of  the  old  school, 
and  in  those  days  very  little  latitude  was  allowed 
the  young  ones.  Besides,  the  presence  in  the  house 
of  an  English  tutor,  a  German  governess  and  a  French 
one  did  little  to  contribute  to  the  general  peace. 

We  were  certainly  the  naughtiest  children  I  have 
met  in  fact  or  fiction.  My  brothers  had  been  brought 
up  practically  on  the  river,  for  the  Avon  flowed  at 
the  bottom  of  our  garden  and  was  only  divided  by 
a  sandbank  from  the  open  sea,  beyond  which,  clearly 
visible  on  the  horizon  were  the  Isle  of  Wight  and 
the  Needles.  Almost  as  soon  as  they  could  walk 
they  were  taught  to  swim,  to  sail  a  boat  and  paddle 


LOOKING  BACK  27 

a  canoe.  They  each  had  their  own  canoe,  and  my 
father  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  lifeboat  which 
had  been  presented  to  him  by  the  Coastguard  Station 
in  recognition  of  a  wonderful  act  of  gallantry  on 
his  part  when,  observing  from  the  terrace  of  our 
garden  a  capsized  fishing-boat  at  sea  with  three  men 
clinging  to  it,  he  called  to  the  coastguard  on  duty 
and  rowed  out  with  him  in  a  flat-bottomed  boat, 
the  only  skiff  available,  to  the  men's  assistance,  a 
fierce  gale  blowing  at  the  time.  There  had  been 
three  men  in  distress  when  my  father  first  saw  them, 
but  one  was  washed  away  before  he  reached  them, 
the  second  died  of  exhaustion  on  the  way  back, 
but  the  third  survived  and  lived  many  years 
after. 

In  this  lifeboat,  which,  of  course,  having  air  compart- 
ments could  not  sink,  my  brothers  learnt  the  ways 
of  the  sea  for  which  to  this  day  they  have  kept  their 
love.  Many  a  prank  they  played  in  her.  I  remember 
that  on  one  occasion  the  tutor,  out  of  temper  with 
my  youngest  brother  for  some  youthful  indiscretion, 
took  him  into  a  secluded  part  of  the  garden,  and  tying 
him  to  a  tree,  laid  into  him  with  a  riding-whip  till 
the  poor  little  fellow  could  hardly  stand.  The  two 
elder  boys,  helpless  witnesses  of  this  act  of  barbarity, 
secretly  vowed  vengeance.  On  the  following  day 
they  invited  the  tutor  to  go  for  a  row  on  the  Avon. 
Unsuspectingly  he  accepted.  When  in  the  middle 
of  the  river,  they  threw  the  oars  overboard  and  quietly 
took  the  cork  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  boat  which, 
of  course,  began  to  fill.  Then  they  waved  a  cheerful 
"  so  long  "  to  the  terrified  man,  and  jumping  into 
the  water  swam  ashore,  leaving  him  to  what  he 
supposed  was  a  watery  end.  The  air-compartments, 


28  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

however,  kept  the  boat  afloat,  and  when  they  con- 
sidered he  had  been  sufficiently  punished  they  brought 
him  in.  For  some  reason  best  known  to  himself 
he  never  reported  them ! 

My  brothers'  tutor  had  a  bad  time,  but  so  had  our 
two  governesses.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  no  alliance 
was  possible  between  them,  one  being  German,  the 
other  French.  Their  aim  seemed  to  be  to  keep  the 
two  "  schoolrooms  "  apart,  that  there  might  be  no 
collusion  between  its  members.  This  scheme  of  theirs 
it  became  our  object  in  life  to  defeat.  We  used  to 
get  out  of  windows  and  perform  the  most  extra- 
ordinary feats  of  roof-climbing  to  get  access  to  each 
other.  We  exchanged  surreptitious  notes  when  we 
passed  in  the  lanes,  for,  of  course,  no  communication 
was  allowed  between  the  walking  parties,  making 
assignations  in  impossible  places.  We  even  ran  away 
— one  of  my  sisters  and  I  were  gone  for  a  whole  day 
once.  We  took  train  for  the  neighbouring  watering- 
place  and  passed  a  blissful  day  on  the  sands  eating 
biscuits  and  jam,  which  provisions  we  had  stolen 
with  infinite  difficulty  from  the  larder. 

We  had  some  neighbours  at  Elmhurst.  One  was 
Mr.  Reeve,  Editor  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  who  was 
a  great  friend  of  my  father's. 

Another,  less  known  to  fame  and  less  polite,  disliked 
him  very  much  for  some  reason,  and  unable  to  insult 
him  personally  bought  a  horrible  yellow  dog  which 
he  christened  Berry.  Whenever  my  father  (Lord 
Bury)  came  along,  this  man  would  yell  insults  at  his 
dog,  calling  him  by  name :  "  Get  out  of  my  sight  you 

d d  beast,  Berry.  Down,  Berry,  or  I'll  give  you 

such  a  thrashing !  '  My  father,  who  had  a  highly 
developed  sense  of  humour,  delighted  in  the  joke,  and 


LOOKING  BACK  29 

I  think  he  took  particular  pleasure  in  walking  past 
Mr.  Whitman's  house,  and  so  giving  him  a  chance 
to  air  his  feelings.  It  is  curious  how  little  incidents 
like  this  remain  engraven  on  one's  memory.  I  have 
forgotten  so  much  connected  with  my  childhood, 
but  never  that  yellow  dog  "  Berry  "  ! 

One  day  mother  and  father  were  away  somewhere 
on  a  visit,  and  we  were  left  in  the  charge  of  the 
governesses  and  of  the  old  Scotch  housekeeper. 

It  happened  that  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales 
were  yachting  in  the  Solent  at  the  time,  and  that 
our  "  Uncle  Harry "  (Sir  Harry  Keppel,  Admiral 
of  the  Fleet)  was  a  guest  on  the  Royal  yacht. 

Susan,  Lady  Waterford  lived  in  lovely  Highcliff 
Castle  about  three  miles  up  the  coast  from  where 
we  were,  and  the  King  and  Queen  decided  to  pay  her 
a  visit  with  their  children,  who  were  all  on  board. 
So  Uncle  Harry,  thinking  it  a  good  opportunity  to 
see  his  nephews  and  nieces,  of  whom  he  was  very  fond, 
obtained  permission  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  to 
send  a  boat  off  to  fetch  us  for  a  picnic  on  the  sands 
with  the  Royal  children.  The  only  stipulation  my 
uncle  made  was  that  we  should  go  unattended  and 
be  left  to  him  to  look  after. 

When  this  invitation  came  the  excitement  of  gover- 
ness and  housekeeper  was  intense.  What  should 
the  children  wear  was  of  course  the  first  thought, 
and  this  is  how  they  eventually  dispatched  us  :  my 
brother  George  had  just  got  his  first  tail  coat,  he 
was  arrayed  in  that,  with  white  flannel  trousers  and 
a  billy-cock  hat.  My  eldest  sister  had  her  first  long 
dress,  and  very  long  it  was,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  day.  That  it  was  black  serge  mattered  little, 
considering  it  was  her  smartest  dress.  My  next 


30  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

sister  and  myself  wore  checked  ulsters  and  white 
straw  hats  trimmed  with  blue  silk  bows. 

I  often  laugh  even  now  when  I  think  of  the  sight 
we  must  have  presented  to  my  uncle's  horrified  gaze 
when  we  landed  from  the  gig  and  had  to  be  presented 
to  the  Princess  of  Wales,  who  I  remember  wore  a 
charming  blue  serge  dress,  her  little  girls  being  dressed 
exactly  like  herself. 

But  we  children  were  perfectly  unselfconscious. 
My  sister  Hilda  knew  that  George  ought  to  bow 
from  the  waist,  but  that  we  as  girls  should  curtsy, 
and  though  she  herself  got  entangled  in  her  unac- 
customed tail,  and  fell  over  in  the  attempt,  she  righted 
herself  and  stood  by  decorously  whilst  we  all  went 
through  the  same  ceremonious  performance  on  the  sand. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  were  quite  charming  to 
us,  and  as  Uncle  Harry  took  charge  of  the  games, 
the  memory  of  that  day  has  never  departed  from  me. 
Wheelbarrows,  fetched  from  Highcliff  Castle,  played 
a  prominent  part,  the  great  game  being  for  the  sailors 
to  run  us  out  in  them  into  the  surf,  from  which  we 
extricated  ourselves  as  best  we  could.  Both  the 
young  Princes,  the  present  King  and  his  brother, 
the  late  Duke  of  Clarence,  shared  in  the  game,  and 
while  we  played,  their  father  and  mother  sat  on  the 
sands  with  Lady  Waterford  and  watched  us. 

We  used  to  go  every  summer  to  Quidenham  to  spend 
three  months  with  our  grandfather  and  grandmother. 
I  have  already  mentioned  a  few  recollections  of  those 
days. 

As  I  grew  older  the  routine  of  home  life  was  also 
broken  for  me  by  visits  to  my  father's  old  playmate 
and  life-long  friend,  "  Uncle  Bob,"  and  his  wife 
"Aunt  Harriet,"  with  whom  I  used  to  spend  long 


LOOKING  BACK  31 

weeks  at  Lockinge.  With  them  I  made  yearly  excur- 
sions abroad,  and  so  began  my  life  of  travel  and 
adventure.  I  was  devoted  to  them  both,  and  many 
of  the  happiest  memories  of  my  younger  days  are 
associated  with  them. 

I  remember  in  particular  one  delightful  week  of 
military  manoeuvres  on  the  Berkshire  Downs.  I 
think  it  was  in  1893.  The  Duke  of  Cambridge  was 
Commander-in-Chief  and  stayed  for  the  week  at 
Lockinge.  Lord  Wolseley,  Sir  Redvers  Buller,  Lord 
Downe,  Sir  Baker  Russell  and  Sir  Evelyn  Wood  were 
also  there  in  their  professional  capacity,  besides 
many  other  soldiers.  The  Duchess  of  Rutland  and 
I  were  amongst  the  ladies  who  rode  about  with  them 
all  day  during  manoeuvres  and  danced  with  them 
all  night,  for  they  were  very  gay  when  the  day's  work 
was  done.  On  the  Sunday  there  was  a  full-dress 
church  parade,  and  when  the  officers  in  uniform  came 
out  of  church  they  gathered  round  the  Duke  in  the 
garden  discussing  with  him  the  week's  manoeuvres. 
Lord  Wantage  was  always  very  keen  on  anything 
of  the  kind,  but  Field-Marshal  Sir  Evelyn  Wood 
considered  that  when  work  was  over  it  was  time 
for  play.  He  came  up  to  me  and  pointing  to  a  long 
avenue  stretching  away  from  where  we  stood  he 
challenged  me  to  a  race  with  him,  for  he  was  very 
proud  of  his  running  powers.  Lord  Wantage  over- 
heard his  challenge  and  immediately  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  the  joke.  "That's  right,  Evelyn,"  he 
said,  "  and  I'll  be  the  judge !  Here,  take  off  your 
hat  and  your  sword-belt,  and  H.R.H.  shall  give  the 
prize."  So  a  ring  was  formed  and  a  starting-Line 
stretched,  behind  which  Sir  Evelyn  and  I  took  our 
places  waiting  for  the  signal  to  "  Go !  " 


32  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

I  had  heard  of  Sir  Evelyn's  fleetness  of  foot,  and 
realizing  that  I  should  have  no  chance,  I  saved  my 
face  by  playing  a  trick  on  him.  When  Lord  Wantage 
dropped  the  flag  I  ran  a  few  paces,  then  returned 
quietly  to  the  starting-post,  leaving  Sir  Evelyn  speed- 
ing alone  in  full  uniform  down  the  garden  '  path. 
The  sight  was  so  comic  that  everybody  roared  with 
laughter.  The  future  Field-Marshal  bore  me  no  ill- 
will.  He  was  the  quaintest  old  man.  I  remember 
on  another  occasion  during  the  same  visit  he  told 
me  that  he  could  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  seven 
languages,  including  Hindustani.  We  were  alone  in 
the  big  hall  at  Lockinge  at  the  moment,  awaiting 
the  summons  to  dinner.  I  dared  him  to  prove  it. 
He  said  he  could  only  do  it  kneeling,  as  otherwise 
he  couldn't  remember  the  words.  I  fetched  him  a 
chair.  He  popped  down  on  his  knees,  and  shutting 
his  eyes  began  to  race  through  his  task.  Being  very 
deaf  he  did  not  hear  the  guests  gradually  assembling 
for  dinner.  He  was  surprised  when  he  opened  his 
eyes  at  the  finish  to  find  them  all  laughing.  But 
he  enjoyed  the  joke  as  much  as  anybody. 

In  the  year  1896  I  married  Walter  Townley,  son 
of  Charles  Townley,  of  Fulbourne  Manor,  for  many 
years  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Cambridgeshire.  He  was 
at  that  time  a  Second  Secretary  in  the  Diplomatic 
Service.  My  married  life  has  led  me  so  far  afield 
that,  in  deference  to  the  wishes  of  my  friends,  I 
have  set  down  here  some  recollections  of  it  in  the 
shape  of  chapters  on  many  lands. 


THE  LATE  KING  CHARLES  OF  PORTUGAL 

ASSASSINATED   1ST   FEBRUARY,    1908 


CHAPTER  II 

LISBON 

Lisbon  in  the  days  of  King  Carlos — People  I  met  there,  and  how  I 
diplomatically  fainted  to  avoid  trouble  with  a  German  swash- 
buckler. 

WE  went  to  Lisbon  in  1898,  when  the  unfortunate 
King  Carlos  and  his  beautiful  Queen  Amelie 
were  ruling.  The  Portuguese  capital  was  at  that 
time  a  strange  mixture  of  splendour  and  primitive- 
ness — a  big  country  village  with  one  important  modern 
avenue,  and  for  the  rest,  picturesque,  dusty,  narrow 
streets,  cobbled  and  sunlit.  Up  and  down  the  steep 
angles  of  these,  clattered  horse-drawn  vehicles  con- 
trolled on  the  perilous  descent  by  handbrakes,  the 
grating  of  which  on  wheels  formed  one  of  the  most 
persistent  sounds  in  the  discord  of  street  music.  The 
ubiquitous  tram,  of  course,  figured  in  some  of  the 
streets  and  ran  along  the  road  to  Cascaes,  but  that 
was  one  of  the  most  modern  notes  in  the  town.  A 
very  picturesque  feature  were  the  fish-girls,  whose 
accordion-pleated  black  skirts  reminded  one  of  the 
Highland  kilt,  as  they  swung  above  their  bare  legs. 
Their  heads  were  generally  crowned  by  immense  fish- 
baskets,  the  weight  and  poise  of  which  lent  grace  to 
the  rhythmic  stride  of  their  lithe  young  bodies.  These 
fish-girls  are  so  much  a  feature  of  Lisbon  that  their 
baskets  are  reproduced  in  silver  by  the  jewellers  and 

33 


34  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

carried  away  yearly  in  hundreds  by  tourists  hunting 
for  souvenirs. 

The  most  beautiful  garden  in  Lisbon,  that  city 
of  gardens,  was  the  one  belonging  to  the  British  Lega- 
tion, which  was  planned  years  ago  by  Sir  Henry  Layard. 
From  its  terrace  overlooking  the  port  it  used  to  have 
the  most  beautiful  view  in  the  town,  but  it  later 
was  spoilt  by  a  row  of  buildings  set  up  opposite  to 
it  on  the  foreshore  of  the  river. 

We  ourselves  lived  in  a  funny  white  house  in  the 
Via  Ariago,  and  here  we  had  some  most  amusing 
times.  For  we  were  young,  the  sun  was  bright,  and 
cares  were  few  in  those  early  days  of  our  married 
life.  We  were  very  lucky  in  the  other  members 
composing  the  corps  diplomatique  and  we  used  to 
see  a  great  deal  of  each  other.  I  suppose  because 
we  were  idle  and  had  few  tasks  in  that  sleepy  little 
capital  (later  to  be  awakened  by  so  ghastly  a  tragedy) 
we  indulged  in  more  flirtations  and  intrigues  than  in 
other  serious  and  harder-worked  posts.  Even  a  sedate 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  was  once  caught  by  his 
hostess  lumbering  round  the  billiard-table  in  chase 
of  the  fair  wife  of  his  French  colleague.  I  remember 
another  incident  which  occurred  at  our  house  and 
which  might  have  had  a  disagreeable  sequel  in  a  less 
happy-go-lucky  milieu.  A  lady  leaving  after  a  dinner- 
party pressed  a  note  into  the  hand  of  an  Italian 
Count  as  she  bade  him  good  night.  This  token  he 
cynically  opened  and  read  aloud  as  soon  as  she  had 
left  the  room.  It  was  an  assignation! 

Friends  of  ours  used  to  come  from  England  and 
we  did  our  best  to  amuse  them.  The  Marquis  de 
Several,  the  popular  Portuguese  diplomatist,  who 
has  so  frequently  been  a  guest  in  Royal  circles, 


LISBON  35 

used  to  come  there  yearly  to  visit  his  old  parents, 
who  lived  in  Lisbon,  and  to  pay  his  homage  at  Court. 
The  Russian  Minister,  Count  Meyendorff,  entertained 
on  a  lavish  scale  and  was  very  witty.  The  story 
is  told  of  him  that  when  a  young  man  he  was  sent  by 
his  Chief  to  St.  Petersburg  with  dispatches  to  be 
delivered  personally  to  Prince  Gortchakoff,  the  clever 
but  irascible  statesman  who,  as  Foreign  Minister, 
was  the  terror  of  all  who  served  under  him.  On 
taking  leave  of  the  great  man,  Meyendorff  asked 
him  if  he  wished  any  special  message  conveyed  back 
to  his  Chief.  "  Vous  lui  direz  que  vous  avez  vu  le 
lion  dans  sa  taniere  \"  ("  Tell  him  you  have  beheld 
the  lion  in  his  lair  ")  said  Gortchakoff  in  his  most 
terrible  voice.  "  Bien  Altesse,"  answered  the  irre- 
pressible youth,  unable  to  resist  a  joke,  "  je  lui  dirai 
que  j'ai  vu  cet  animal!"  ("Right,  Altesse,  I'll  tell 
him  I've  seen  the  brute  !  ")  a  pleasantry  which  it 
is  said  cost  him  his  subsequent  advancement  in  the 
Service.  He  never  rose  to  be  more  than  Minister 
Plenipotentiary  at  Lisbon,  a  post  of  very  minor 
importance  for  Russia. 

The  Italian  Minister,  another  of  our  colleagues, 
was  supposed  to  be  a  confirmed  bachelor  and  not 
very  meticulous  in  his  personal  habits.  Great  excite- 
ment was  created,  therefore,  when  he  once  returned 
from  leave  in  a  cab,  on  the  top  of  which  figured  a 
shining  new  hip-bath,  whilst  inside  sat  a  lady,  young 
and  of  high  degree,  whom  he  had  married  during 
his  visit  home. 

The  German  Secretary,  Count  Wangenheim,  after- 
wards Ambassador  in  Constantinople  during  the  Great 
War,  was  a  huge,  truculent  fellow  with  a  scar  across 
his  cheek  received  in  his  youth  in  a  duel  with  a  man 


36  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

whom  he  slew  in  single  combat,  a  crime  which  he 
expiated  by  some  months'  detention  in  a  fortress. 
This  story  impressed  me  greatly,  especially  as,  true 
to  his  habit,  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Lisbon  he 
challenged  the  very  diminutive  Secretary  of  the 
Austrian  Legation  in  connexion  with  some  trivial 
dispute.  I  was  always  afraid  he  would  pick  a  quarrel 
with  my  husband.  One  night  he  and  the  Belgian 
Secretary  dined  at  our  house,  and  afterwards  we  sat 
down  to  a  game  of  cards.  Walter  objected  to  some- 
thing in  his  play,  whereupon,  to  my  horror,  with  a 
furious  gesture  he  threw  his  cards  on  the  table.  I 
saw  my  worst  fears  about  to  be  realized,  and,  deeming 
the  situation  critical,  I  gracefully  subsided  under 
the  table  in  a  simulated  faint.  "  Get  him  out  of 
the  house,"  I  whispered  to  the  Belgian  Secretary  who 
assisted  my  husband  to  carry  me  from  the  room, 
"  get  the  brute  away !  "  He  was  got  away,  but 
in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  on  his  way  home 
he  had  a  heart  attack  in  the  street  and  was  laid  up 
for  days.  Anxious  to  placate  him,  I  sent  him  soup 
and  champagne,  which  had  the  curious  effect  of  so 
improving  our  relations  that,  upon  recovery,  he 
promptly  asked  my  husband  and  myself  to  dine 
with  him.  We  accepted,  but  even  that  dinner  was 
not  to  pass  off  without  incident,  and,  to  my  surprise, 
I  suddenly  saw  a  look  of  anger  pass  over  Walter's 
face.  Said  he,  addressing  the  Hun  in  icy  terms, 
"That  is  my  foot,  Count  Wangenheim  !  "  Apparently 
he  had  been  searching  for  mine  !  How  like  a  German 
to  make  a  mistake. 

The  French  Secretary's  wife  was  a  very  pretty 
little  woman,  not  devoid  of  vanity,  which  once  led 
her  to  suggest,  as  an  after-dinner  game,  the  curious 


THE  QUEEN  OF   PORJUGAL 


LISBON  37 

amusement  of  letting  down  our  hair  to  see  whose 
tresses  were  longest,  a  competition  which,  of  course, 
she  won,  as  she  knew  she  would,  for  she  had  a  most 
glorious  crop  of  raven  locks.  It  makes  one  feel 
young  to  look  back  on  the  foolish  pastimes  that  amused 
one  in  those  far-away  days. 

The  Court  did  not  entertain  on  a  large  scale,  though 
more  than  once  during  our  year  at  Lisbon  the  corps 
diplomatique  were  received  by  Their  Majesties.  On 
these  occasions  a  cercle  was  formed  and  the  King  and 
Queen  used  to  make  the  round  addressing  a  few  gracious 
words  to  each  guest.  The  Crown  jewels  of  Portugal, 
especially  the  diamonds,  were  supposed  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  in  Europe,  and  well  did  they  adorn 
the  lovely  Queen,  whose  beauty  was  enhanced  by  the 
majesty  of  her  bearing.  The  fashions  at  that  time 
were  very  trying,  with  tight  skirts  and  overloaded 
bodices,  the  enormous  mutton-chop  sleeves  in  vogue 
taking  all  grace  from  the  figure.  But  the  dress  of 
the  day,  ugly  and  cumbersome  as  it  was,  could  not 
detract  from  the  charm  of  Queen  Amelie. 

The  King  was  enormously  fat,  but  fond  of  sport 
and  a  first-class  shot.  We  used  to  see  them  often 
driving  about  Lisbon,  their  little  sons  with  them, 
dressed  in  dark  blue  jersey  suits  with  red  Basque 
berets  on  their  heads.  Often  I  have  pictured  since 
the  scene  of  their  brutal  murder,  when  the  vengeful 
mob  attacked  the  carriage  in  which  they  drove  and 
shot  the  King  and  his  eldest  son,  whilst  the  Queen 
gallantly  but  vainly  endeavoured  to  save  them  by 
throwing  herself  across  their  bodies  at  imminent  risk 
to  her  own  life.  When  I  had  my  farewell  audience 
with  Her  Majesty  prior  to  leaving  Lisbon,  she  received 
me  in  her  boudoir,  a  sumptuously  furnished  room  with 


38  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

three  great  white  bearskins  thrown  upon  the  parquet 
floor.  She  sat  in  a  tall  carved  arm-chair,  the  back 
of  which  formed  a  Royal  crown  above  the  level  of 
her  head.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  her.  She  envied 
me  going  back  to  England.  "  There  are  two  things 
in  life,"  she  said,  "  that  I  enjoy,  riding  and  skating, 
and  neither  are  possible  in  Lisbon.  How  I  should 
love  to  live  again  in  your  beautiful  country !  "  How 
little  did  either  of  us  foresee  the  tragic  destiny  which 
was  so  soon  to  bring  to  her  the  realization  of  that 
wish. 

My  husband  took  leave  that  same  day  of  King 
Carlos,  who  kept  his  Cabinet  waiting  one  hour  while 
he  discussed  with  him  his  favourite  topic  of  sport, 
shooting  in  particular.  As  he  said  good-bye  he 
exclaimed  :  "  You  lucky  fellow  !  What  would  I  not 
give  to  be  a  free  man,  rather  than  a  King.  I  should 
love  to  live  in  Paris  and  enjoy  life  1  " 


CHAPTER  III 

BERLIN 

Berlin  society  as  I  knew  it — Recollections  of  the  Emperor  Frederick, 
and  of  the  ex-Kaiser  before  and  after  he  came  to  the  throne — 
How  Cecil  Rhodes  directed  the  Kaiser's  ambitions  towards 
Baghdad — What  the  English  in  Berlin  suffered  during  the  Boer 
War,  and  how  the  Kaiser  wanted  to  show  us  how  to  win  it. 

WE  had  not  been  long  in  Lisbon  when  my 
husband's  appointment  to  Berlin  in  the  year 
1899  gave  me  my  first  opportunity  of  meeting  the 
ex-Kaiser. 

Walter's  recollection  of  him  dates  much  further 
back  than  my  own.  As  a  boy  (studying  German  in 
Berlin),  he  was  present  in  1881  at  Prince  Wilhelm's 
wedding,  which  he  was  invited  to  witness  from  the 
gallery  of  the  Weisser  Saal  in  company  with  the 
royal  bridegroom's  three  young  unmarried  sisters : 
Princess  Sophie,  who  afterwards  married  the  King 
of  Greece ;  Princess  Marguerite,  who  married  H.R.H. 
Prince  Frederick  Charles  of  Hesse ;  and  Princess 
Victoria,  who  became  the  wife  of  H.R.H.  Prince 
Adolphe  of  Schaumburg-Lippe. 

My  husband  was  back  again  in  Germany  in  1883, 
when  he  went  to  Potsdam  to  stay  with  Sir  John 
Walsham,  at  that  time  First  Secretary  at  our  Embassy. 
While  there  he  was  frequently  invited  to  the  Neues 
Palais  to  play  lawn  tennis,  or  rather  what  they  called 
lawn  tennis,  which  was  a  strange  game  played  on  a 


40  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

long  narrow  asphalt  court  with  invariably  three 
players  on  each  side  of  the  net. 

He  was  playing  one  day  with  the  Empress  Frederick 
and  Prince  Karl  of  Hesse  against  the  ex-Kaiser  (then 
Prince  William),  the  Duke  of  Connaught  and  Princess 
Victoria  of  Prussia.  The  Eriipress  Frederick  (then 
Crown  Princess)  became  very  excited  when  she  found 
her  side  winning,  and  played  with  such  vigour  that 
my  husband,  taking  more  than  his  share  of  this  be- 
wildering game  and  running  back  at  a  ball  which 
he  never  thought  she  would  attempt,  collided  violently 
with  her,  knocking  her  down,  so  that,  to  his  horror, 
she  measured  her  length  on  the  ground. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  "  I  believe  my  arm  is  broken  !  ' 

Walter  helped  her  to  rise  and  left  the  palace  very 
crestfallen,  but  the  Crown  Princess,  realizing  his 
distress,  sent  him  a  friendly  telegram  that  evening, 
assuring  him  that  her  arm  was  not  very  badly  hurt. 

Next  day,  at  the  military  manoeuvres,  she  was  re- 
viewing her  regiment  on  horseback.  She  caught  sight 
of  Walter  watching  the  ceremony  and  waved  the 
injured  arm  to  give  him  ocular  proof  that  the  damage 
done  had  not  been  so  serious  after  all. 

My  husband's  recollection  of  the  Kaiser  as  a  boy  is 
of  a  hot-tempered,  intolerant  youth,  whose  rudeness  to 
his  mother  before  strangers  shocked  Walter's  English 
ideas.  Never  would  he  play  at  tennis  on  the  same 
side  as  his  mother,  and  if  he  was  beaten,  he  invariably 
lost  his  temper  and  flung  down  his  racket. 

To  Walter,  a  rather  shy  boy,  he  was  very  variable 
in  his  manner.  On  one  day  he  would  be  amiable  to 
the  point  of  familiarity,  slapping  him  on  the  back 
with  a  hearty  hail-fellow-well-met  sort  of  air,  but 
on  another  occasion  he  would  be  excessively  distant 


BERLIN  41 

and  stand-offish.  At  all  times  he  resented  the  slightest 
deviation  from  the  strictest  Court  etiquette  on  the 
part  of  others. 

The  Crown  Princess  was  then,  as  always,  British 
to  her  finger-tips,  and  made  no  secret  of  the  superiority 
she  attributed  to  her  Mother  Country  over  any  other.  - 
She  emphasized  these  feelings  to  a  degree  wanting, 
perhaps,  in  tact,  and  her  German  children  retaliated 
by  "  drawing  her  "  whenever  they  could. 

Thus,  for  instance,  on  one  occasion  at  five-o'clock 
tea  Walter  remembers  the  two  Princesses,  then  girls 
of  twelve  and  fifteen,  dipping  their  cake  into  their 
tea-cups,  with  the  obvious  intention  of  annoying  her. 
The  Crown  Princess  rose  to  the  bait  like  a  fish  to  a 
fly.  "  Now  stop  that,  children  !  "  she  cried,  "  none 
of  your  nasty  German  habits  at  my  table  !  " 

Poor  woman  !  She  remained  English  in  the  midst 
of  her  German  surroundings.  She  continually  chafed 
at  the  rigid  formalities  of  the  Prussian  capital.  How 
much  better  one  understands  now  all  that  she  must 
have  suffered  in  the  process  of  being  "  Prussianized  "  ! 
Not  that  the  process  was  ever  really  accomplished 
in  her  case,  for  when  she  died  she  left  a  request  that 
she  might  be  buried  wrapped  in  the  Union  Jack. 

But  apart  from  frequent  conflicts  with  her  son, 
whose  intolerant  spirit  could  never  brook  her  control 
even  as  a  boy,  her  married  life  was  a  very  happy  one. 
She  adored  her  husband.  Germany  might  have  been 
a  very  different  country  if  it  had  expanded  on  the 
broad  cultured  lines  followed  by  the  Emperor  Frederick 
and  his  English  Consort. 

The  Emperor  Frederick 1  was  a  man  of  charming 

1  The  Emperor  Frederick,  father  of  the  ex-Kaiser,  reigned  from 
March  9  to  June  15,  1888. 


42  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

manners  and  liberal  ideas.  He  and  my  father,  the 
seventh  Earl  of  Albemarle,  bore  an  extraordinary 
facial  likeness  to  each  other.  They  were  married 
the  same  year,  and  their  eldest  sons  each  married 
and  had  a  son  in  the  lifetime  of  his  own  grandfather. 
Thus  four  generations  nourished  at  one  time  in  the 
male  line  of  both  families,  and  both  were  justly  proud 
of  it.  They  exchanged  photographs  commemorating 
the  fact. 

To  me  the  Empress  Frederick  seemed  of  all  Queen 
Victoria's  children  the  one  who  most  strongly  resembled 
King  Edward  in  vigour  of  intellect  and  charm  of 
personality.  I  used  to  see  her  at  Homburg,  where 
we  spent  a  few  weeks  every  year  while  we  were  at 
the  Embassy  in  Berlin.  Her  beloved  Friedrichsruhe 
was  in  the  Forest,  just  outside  the  little  watering-place. 
She  was  then  a  sad  and  dignified  woman  in  the  even- 
ing of  life,  clothed  always  in  black  with  a  lace  mantilla 
draped  over  her  white  hair.  We  several  times  had 
the  honour  of  dining  with  her.  I  remember  a  laugh- 
able episode  at  one  of  those  dinners.  King  Edward, 
then  Prince  of  Wales,  was  present,  and  I  sat  next 
to  him,  opposite  the  Empress,  who  had  Walter  on 
one  side  of  her  and  Count  Seckendorff,  her  trusted 
friend  and  private  secretary,  on  the  other.  The  table 
was  a  narrow  one,  and  the  conversation  was  general, 
as  is  the  usual  custom  abroad,  but  on  this  occasion 
the  Empress  was  very  silent,  and  at  last  I  saw  her 
turn  to  Count  Seckendorff  and  say  something  to 
him  in  a  low  tone,  at  the  same  time  pointing  to  me. 
Count  Seckendorff  leant  towards  me  across  the 
table  and  said  quite  distinctly  so  that  all  could  hear, 
"  The  Empress  wishes  me  to  say  she  regrets  she  cannot 
take  much  part  in  the  conversation  to-night,  for 


BERLIN  43 

Her  Majesty  has  spoilt  her  stomach."  This  literal 
translation  of  a  German  idiom  (hat  sick  den  Magen 
verdorberi)  which  implied  that  the  Empress  was  suffer- 
ing from  indigestion,  so  amused  the  Prince  of  Wales 
that  he  gave  way  to  uncontrolled  laughter,  in  which 
the  gentle  Empress  shared  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  that  evening  so  evidently  far  from  well. 

This  was  the  last  time  I  saw  her.  She  died  in 
August  of  the  following  year. 

It  was  shortly  before  the  Boer  War  that  we  arrived 
in  the  German  capital.  With  a  joie  de  vivre  not  yet 
tempered  by  years  of  diplomacy,  I  extracted  the 
maximum  of  amusement  out  of  every  day  we  spent 
there,  and  at  that  time  Berlin  was  quite  a  gay  city, 
though  not  so  smart  as  the  Kaiser  would  have  wished. 
He  realized,  I  think,  that  there  was  between  Berlin 
and  Paris,  or  London,  all  the  difference  that  there  is 
between  beer  and  champagne.  He  would  have  loved 
to  top  German  thoroughness  with  a  little  naughty 
Gallic  froth !  Personally,  I  found  him  charming. 
He  was  in  mourning  then  for  his  wife's  mother, 
and  we  on  our  side  were  also  in  Court  mourning,  so 
that  neither  the  Court  nor  the  Embassy  could  enter- 
tain or  see  anything  of  society.  But  it  was  possible 
for  the  Emperor  to  come  alone  to  a  "  family  "  Embassy, 
even  though  he  was  in  mourning,  so  it  happened 
that  he  often  dined  quite  informally  with  his  dear 
friend,  Sir  Frank  Lascelles,  our  delightful  chief. 

I  remember  the  commotion  caused  on  one  of  these 
occasions  by  the  fact  that  the  combined  knife  and 
fork  which  he  manipulated  with  one  hand  at  table 
had  been  left  behind.  It  had  to  be  sent  for  to  the 
Palace,  and,  to  the  dismay  of  all  present,  he  let  the 
sparks  fly,  upbraiding  his  equerry  for  his  forgetfulness. 


44  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

His  anger,  I  think,  was  principally  due  to  the  galling 
exposure  of  his  infirmity  which  the  incident  occasioned, 
for  he  was  extremely  sensitive  on  this  point  and 
always  at  pains  to  hide  the  fact  that  his  left  arm  hung 
useless  in  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  the  cuff  of  which  was 
attached  to  one  of  the  buttons  of  his  tunic. 

Apart  from  this  defect  and  from  the  ridiculously 
fierce  expression  of  William  the  Frightful  caused  by 
the  careful  upward  training  of  his  moustachios,  the 
Emperor>  I  think,  might  have  passed  as  a  handsome 
man,  though  far  from  possessing  the  good  looks  of 
his  father.  • 

At  dinner  on  these  informal  occasions  at  the  Embassy 
he  was  at  his  best,  gay,  debonair,  informal,  and  witty. 
After  dinner  I  often  had  a  chance  of  a  tete-d-tete 
talk  with  him,  for  there  were  no  ladies  present,  except 
old  Lady  Edward  Cavendish,  Sir  Frank  Lascelles' 
sister,  who  entertained  for  him,  and  his  then  unmarried 
daughter,  Florence.  Various  snatches  of  those  con- 
versations come  back  to  me. 

Once,  after  some  outburst  on  his  part  against  England, 
I  asked  him  why  he  hated  us  so.  "  Why,  of  course," 
he  laughed,  "  it  is  a  plain  case  of  '  der  Neid  des  armen 
Vetters  fur  den  reichen  !  '  '  (The  jealousy  of  the  poor 
cousin  for  the  rich  !)  Many  a  true  word  is  spoken 
in  jest  ! 

Often  he  talked  of  the  British  and  German  Navies. 
"  The  curious  thing  is,"  he  once  remarked,  "  that 
had  I  been  a  second  son  I  should  have  been  a  sailor. 
How  often  I  envy  my  brother.  My  one  love  is  for 
the  sea.  How  much  I  should  have  preferred  a  naval 
to  a  military  career !  ' 

Frequently  he  expressed  a  half-despairing  admira- 
tion for  the  British  Navy.  "  Ah,  never  can  my  Navy 


BERLIN  45 

equal  yours,"  he  would  sigh,  "  for  you  can  man  your 
ships  with  sea-born  crews,  whereas  mine  come  from 
the  interior  of  Germany — my  sailors  are  made,  not 
born — and  that  means  so  much,  all  other  things 
being  equal !  " 

His  admiration  for  our  Fleet  waxed  after  the  out- 
break of  the  Boer  War.  He  was  astounded  at  the 
rapidity  of  our  transport  of  the  first  20,000  troops 
to  South  Africa. 

"The  British  Navy  is  the  finest  in  the  world,"  he 
said.  "  Our  Navy  can  never  emulate  its  efficiency." 

A  dislike  of  the  Jewish  element  in  his  country  seemed 
deeply  implanted  in  him.  "  The  Jews  are  the  curse 
of  my  country,"  he  once  said  to  me.  "  They  keep 
my  people  poor  and  in  their  clutches.  In  every  small 
village  in  Germany  sits  a  dirty  Jew,  like  a  spider 
drawing  the  people  into  the  web  of  usury.  He  lends 
money  to  the  small  farmers  on  the  security  of  their 
land  and  so  gradually  acquires  control  of  everything. 
The  Jews  are  the  parasites  of  my  Empire.  The 
Jewish  question  is  one  of  the  great  problems  I  have 
to  deal  with,  and  yet  nothing  can  be  done  to  cope 
with  it !  " 

In  later  years  he  apparently  got  over  this  dislike 
of  Jews — although  when  we  were  in  Berlin  they  were 
socially  ostracized  by  his  wish.  I  remember  in  parti- 
cular a  certain  lady,  rich,  attractive,  socially  ambitious, 
who  but  for  her  origin  would  have  been  a  success 
from  the  start  of  her  social  career.  But  she  could 
not  force  the  portals  of  Berlin  society,  not  even  though 
she  added  a  covered  tennis-court  and  a  riding-school 
to  the  already  numerous  amenities  of  her  beautiful 
house  in  the  Pariser  Platz.  She  climbed  and  climbed, 
but  when  I  left  Berlin  she  had  not  succeeded  in  reach- 


46  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

ing  the  top,  although  to  accomplish  her  end  she  had 
recourse  to  all  sorts  of  expedients. 

Once  she  called  me  up  on  the  telephone  to  ask  if 
we  would  dine  with  her  that  night  and  go  to  the 
opera.  "  The  Schonborns  are  coming,"  she  said 
(he  was  Private  Secretary  to  the  Chancellor).  Being 
suspicious,  and  having  to  be  careful  on  account  of 
my  husband's  official  position,  I  promised  to  send  an 
answer  later,  and  meanwhile  called  up  Princess  Schon- 
born  to  ask  if  they  really  were  dining  with  the  F.'s  that 
night.  "  Certainly  not,"  she  said,  "  and  I  was  much 
surprised  when  she  rang  me  up  just  now  to  tell  me 
that  you  were  !  ' 

And  so  the  little  dodge  failed.  But  I  am  told  that 
before  the  war  she  had  "  got  there  "  and  that  her 
dinners  were  among  the  most  brilliant  in  the  capital, 
the  Emperor  himself  being  among  her  guests. 

In  spite  of  the  fierceness  of  his  appearance,  I  always 
found  the  Emperor  very  easy  to  talk  to.  He  was 
often  in  a  chaffing  mood  and  did  not  disdain  to  laugh 
at  my  jokes.  Once  I  made  some  mocking  allusion 
to  his  statue  of  Victory,  which  we  could  see  from  the 
window  standing  on  her  column  at  the  end  of  the 
Tiergarten,  with  her  finger  pointing  at  Paris.  "  What," 
I  said,  "  does  that  ugly  stout  lady  represent  ?  ' 

"  Ugly  ?  Stout  ?  "  he  gasped.  "  Why,  that  is  my 
Victory !  She  represents  our  great  triumph  in  the 
Franco-Prussian  War." 

"  Well,"  I  remarked,  "  I  think  she's  rather  improper. 
You  should  let  down  her  frock." 

The  Kaiser  was  highly  amused,  nor  did  he  forget 
my  poor  little  joke,  for  when  years  afterwards  my 
brother  went  to  Berlin  he  said  to  him,  "  Tell  Lady 
Susan  my  Victory  is  now  in  the  fashion  !  '  This 


BERLIN  47 

being  an  allusion  to  the  short  skirts  by  that  time  in 
vogue. 

The  ex-Kaiser  has  often  been  abused  for  the  atrocious 
bad  taste  of  the  Sieges  Alice  (Avenue  of  Victory), 
but  the  idea  of  it,  as  he  explained  it  to  me,  was  finely 
conceived,  I  think.  "  When  I  went  to  Athens  as  a 
child  with  my  mother/'  he  said,  "  and  saw  the  deeds 
of  the  Greeks  immortalized  in  their  splendid  marbles, 
I  realized  what  a  powerful  stimulus  to  patriotism  was 
the  history  of  a  country  written  in  stone,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  some  day  I  would  try  to  do  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind  for  my  own  people.  Books 
of  history  are  very  dry !  Statues  would,  at  least, 
make  them  ask  questions  !  " 

We  were  once  present  at  a  dinner  given  to  the 
Kaiser  at  our  Embassy  when  Cecil  Rhodes  was  the 
guest  of  honour  asked  to  meet  him.  At  this  dinner 
(it  was  in  1899,  if  I  remember  right)  an  incident 
occurred  hitherto  unrecorded,  which  I  am  convinced 
had  great  future  political  interest  for  both  Britain 
and  Germany. 

Before  the  dinner,  Cecil  Rhodes  had  been  speaking 
of  his  grand  conception  of  an  All-British  Cape  to  Cairo 
Railway,  the  greatest  transcontinental  line  in  the 
world.  At  that  time  this  scheme  was  threatened  by 
the  lively  interest  which  Germany  displayed  in  African 
trade  development. 

"  If  only  we  could  make  the  Kaiser  abandon  his 
African  schemes  and  leave  us  free  to  get  on  with  ours," 
Rhodes  said.  "  But  he's  so  obstinate.  Once  he  has 
thought  out  a  plan  nothing  will  make  him  change 
it.  ...  Unless/' he  added  reflectively,  "  I  could  think 
of  some  other  scheme  to  put  before  him  that  would  fire 
his  imagination  and  lead  him  off  on  another  scent !  " 


48  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

After  dinner  the  ladies  retired,  as  usual,  but  my 
husband  told  me  afterwards  how  the  Emperor  and 
Rhodes  fell  at  once  into  an  animated  conversation. 
In  pursuance  of  the  plan  that  had  occurred  to  him 
before  dinner,  Rhodes  set  to  work  to  draw  a  red  herring 
across  the  Kaiser's  trail  by  leading  the  conversation 
on  to  the  topic  of  Mesopotamia. 

"  If  my  thoughts  were  not  centred  on  Africa,"  he 
declared,  "  that  would  be  the  field  of  development 
that  would  attract  me  most.  Not  only  is  it  capable 
of  becoming  the  granary  of  the  world,  but  it  is  the 
obvious  route  to  the  Far  East  and  to  the  undeveloped 
markets  of  Persia  and  Afghanistan.  The  way  to 
those  countries  lies  through  Baghdad !  " 

I  knew  how  much  Cecil  Rhodes  had  hoped  to  gain 
from  this  after-dinner  talk,  and  it  may  be  judged 
with  what  eagerness  I  watched  for  his  reappearance. 
When  after  a  long  time  the  men  joined  us,  his  face 
was  flushed  with  excitement.  "  Thank  God,"  he 
whispered,  "  I  believe  I  have  done  the  trick.  I  have 
side-tracked  him  out  of  Africa  !  " 

For  the  remainder  of  that  evening  the  Kaiser  was 
pensive.  He  seemed  much  occupied  with  his  own 
thoughts.  Probably  he  was  turning  over  in  his 
mind  a  great  new  scheme  suggested  to  him  by  Rhodes' 
apparently  unguarded  remarks.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  talking  to  me  before  he  left. 

"If  I  had  a  man  like  Rhodes  to  carry  out  my 
schemes,"  he  said,  "  I  should  be  the  greatest  Emperor 
in  the  world." 

I  am  convinced  that  at  that  moment  was  born 
the  idea  of  the  Baghdad-Bahn. 

Some  years  afterwards  (1912)  when  ray  husband  was 
in  Bukarest  as  British  Minister,  he  was  received  in 


BERLIN  49 

private  audience  by  the  late  King  Charles  of  Rumania. 
On  this  occasion  that  astute  Sovereign  laid  great  stress 
on  the  fact  that  in  his  opinion  the  Germans  were 
wrong  to  attach  so  much  importance  to  the  Baghdad 
railway.  The  true  direct  line  from  Berlin  to  the  East, 
as  he  saw  it,  was  via  Bukarest  and  Constanza  to  a 
port  on  the  Black  Sea,  such  as  Batum  in  the  Caucasus  or 
Trebizond,  and  thence  to  Persia.  ' '  Tcannot  understand 
how  they  were  led  to  take  this  scheme  up,"  he  said. 

We  recalled  that  conversation  when,  in  February, 
1918,  Russia  was  forced  to  sign  the  Brest-Litovsk 
Treaty  with  Germany.  On  the  face  of  it,  it  did  not 
seem  clear  why  Germany  should  insist  upon  Russia 
returning  to  Turkey,  or  rather  to  the  "  self-determina- 
tion "  of  the  Caucasians,  those  districts  in  the  Caucasus 
taken  from  them  after  the  war  of  1877.  But  the  pro- 
viso brought  back  to  our  minds  King  Carol's  words 
spoken  in  1912,  and  made  us  wonder  whether  the 
Germans,  confronted  with  the  impossibility  of  estab- 
lishing their  Baghdad-Bahn,  were  not  looking  to  that 
alternative  route  to  the  Far  East  which  King  Carol 
had  outlined. 

But  enough  of  politics  ! 

The  cheeriest  times  we  spent  in  Berlin  were  during 
the  winter  season,  when  the  Court  functions  annually 
took  place.  For  these  few  weeks  people  in  the  social 
world  from  Silesia,  Bavaria,  and  other  distant  centres 
flocked  to  the  capital,  and  many  were  the  entertain- 
ments given  in  their  honour.  The  South  German 
women,  especially  the  half-Austrians,  were  much 
prettier,  smarter  and  gayer  than  the  Prussians,  and 
the  corps  diplomatique  looked  forward  to  the  relaxed 
formality  which  the  southern  element  introduced 
for  a  few  short  weeks  into  dull  heavy  Berlin. 


50  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Our  own  entertaining,  before  the  death  of  the 
Empress's  mother  put  an  end  for  us  to  all  social  fes- 
tivities, took  the  form  of  a  dinner  dance,  which  was 
great  fun. 

Two  incidents  connected  with  it  were  typical  of 
Berlin.  The  day  before  the  intended  dance,  which 
was  to  end  up  with  a  cotillon,  two  young  officers, 
whose  acquaintance  I  had  not  yet  made,  called  at 
our  house  and  asked  to  see  me  on  important  business. 
One  of  them  was  Prince  William  of  Wied,  afterwards 
Mpret  of  Albania,  who  very  shyly  explained  that 
they  were  the  Vortdnzer  (superintendents  of  dancing  !) 
officially  selected  by  the  Emperor  to  conduct  social 
dances  in  Berlin,  and  in  pursuance  of  their  duty  they 
had  come  to  make  arrangements  for  my  ball ! 

"  What !  "  I  exclaimed,  laughing.  "  But  I  have 
not  even  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance !  It 
is  very  kind  of  you,  but  my  arrangements  are  already 
made.  I  shall  lead  the  cotillon  myself  with  Count 
Franzi  Magnis."  Still  they  persisted — they  were  very 
sorry,  but  could  not  help  themselves — at  least  they 
must  be  present  and  nominally  carry  out  their  duties  ! 
I  was  immensely  amused.  Such  a  thing  could  only 
happen  in  Berlin. 

As  they  were  both  very  nice  young  men  and  looked 
well  in  their  smart  uniforms,  I  told  them  they  would 
be  more  than  welcome  as  guests.  With  that  they 
had  to  be  satisfied.  From  that  day  they  were  counted 
among  our  best  friends  in  young  German  social  life. 
But  they  did  not  lead  the  cotillon  ! 

The  dance  was  preceded  by  a  dinner  of  twelve. 
On  the  day  before  it  was  to  take  place  one  of  the 
men  guests  failed.  We  were  at  a  ball  that  night  at 
the  house  of  Countess  Henkel  Donnersmarck,  and  in 


BERLIN  51 

the  course  of  it  somebody  brought  a  young  man  in 
uniform  and  introduced  him  to  me.  I  did  not  catch 
his  name,  and  had  not  the  slightest  idea  who  the  officer 
was,  but  as  he  looked  very  young  and  gay  it  occurred 
to  me  that  he  would  be  suitable  to  take  the  place  of 
the  guest  who  had  failed  for  our  dinner  of  the  next 
night.  Accordingly,  I  asked  him,  if  he  were  not  other- 
wise engaged,  to  excuse  short  notice  and  take  the 
other  man's  place.  I  thought  I  noticed  a  shade  of 
hesitation  in  his  acceptance,  but  this  I  attributed  to 
some  possible  confusion  in  his  mind  about  dates. 

After  the  dance  I  told  my  husband  that  I  had  secured 
a  man  for  the  next  night,  and  pointed  him  out.  "  Do 
you  know  who  that  is  ?  "  said  Walter,  laughing.  "  Not 
the  least,"  I  confessed.  "  I  couldn't  catch  his  name, 
but  I'll  ask  some  one  presently."  "  I  know  him," 
said  Walter,  "he  is  Prince !  Joachim  Albrecht  of 
Prussia." 

On  the  day  following  our  entertainment  another 
stranger  was  announced.  This  time  it  was  no  Vortdnzer, 
but  a  severe-looking  officer  with  fierce,  upturned 
moustachios,  who  goose-stepped  into  my  presence, 
clicked  his  heels,  presented  arms — no,  not  quite  that, 
but  went  through  all  the  antics  associated  with  a 
German  on  parade,  and  then  informed  me  that  he 
was  aide-de-camp  to  H.R.H.  Prince  Joachim  Albrecht 
of  Prussia  and  had  called  to  inform  me  that  much 
annoyance  had  been  caused  at  Court  because  the 
Prince  had  come  unaccompanied  to  our  house.  In 
future,  when  the  Prince  was  invited,  his  aide-de- 
camp must  be  included  in  the  invitation.  I  expressed 
regret  at  the  oversight  in  this  matter  of  etiquette,  and 
explained  how  it  had  occurred. 

I  was  afterwards  told  that  this  young  Prince  and 


52  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

his  brother  were  notorious  for  their  escapades  in 
Berlin,  and  by  the  Kaiser's  orders  were  kept  under 
strict  military  discipline.  The  plan  to  keep  them 
within  bounds  failed  signally,  for  although  the  great 
iron  gates  of  their  palace  in  the  Wilhelmstrasse  were 
nightly  bolted  and  barred,  it  was  from  this  same 
palace,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  climbing  the  gates, 
that  they  escaped  after  dark  to  enjoy  such  dissipa- 
tion as  Berlin  offered. 

The  after  career  of  this  youth,  who  is  the  second 
cousin  of  the  Kaiser,  was  full  of  incident,  and  he 
probably  provided  the  columns  of  the  German 
newspapers  with  more  scandal  than  did  any  other 
Hohenzollern. 

His  association  with  Marie  Sulzer,  an  actress  who 
played  in  German  translations  of  French  farces,  and 
who  was  more  noted  for  her  fine  physique  than  for 
fine  acting,  had  long  been  subject  for  gossip,  which 
was  only  increased  when  in  1906  she  was  married 
to  Baron  von  Liebenberg.  The  ceremony,  attended 
by  Prince  Joachim  Albrecht,  took  place  in  London 
at  the  Brixton  registrar's  office,  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom separating  at  the  door  and  being  divorced 
shortly  afterwards.  The  Prince  then  announced  his 
intention  of  marrying  the  Baroness,  a  step  which 
roused  the  Kaiser,  jealous  of  the  prestige  of  the  House 
of  Hohenzollern,  to  fury. 

Marie  Sulzer  was  expelled  from  Germany  and  went 
to  Paris,  the  Prince  was  banished  to  military  service 
in  S.W.  Africa.  The  lady  accompanied  him  on  part, 
at  least,  of  his  journey.  In  1908,  he  returned  without 
permission  and  married  her,  a  step  for  which  he  was 
punished  by  being  expelled  from  the  German  Army. 
He  rejoined  during  the  war  and  fought  against  the 


BERLIN  53 

Allies  at  Rheims,  Verdun,  in  the  Carpathians,  Buko- 
wina,  and  at  Amiens. 

Later,  he  was  summoned  by  a  Strassburg  laundry- 
man  for  non-payment  of  a  washing  bill  of  two  hundred 
odd  francs.  But  the  ridicule  excited  by  this  fact 
fell  like  water  from  a  duck's  back  in  the  case  of  a  young 
man  to  whom  notoriety  was  cheap  at  any  price. 

We  next  hear  of  him  after  the  Armistice  in  the 
restaurant  of  the  Adlon  Hotel  in  Berlin.  The  band 
was  playing  that  hackneyed  tune  (which  is  not,  as 
some  people  suppose,  the  German  National  Anthem) 
"  Deutschland  iiber  Alles."  Two  French  officers,  who 
were  diners  in  the  restaurant,  went  on  eating,  unmind- 
ful of  the  tune  that  was  being  played.  Prince  Joachim 
Albrecht  and  a  few  other  hotheads  with  him  chose 
to  interpret  their  behaviour  as  an  insult  to  Germany, 
making  it  the  excuse  for  a  violent  onslaught  on  the 
offending  French  officers! 

The  indignant  Allies  demanded  that  he  should  be 
punished,  and  again  the  Prince  was  banished  from 
Berlin,  after  the  imposition  of  a  nominal  fine  of  1,800 
marks.  But  he  returned  a  few  months  later,  to  find, 
to  his  intense  mortification,  that  the  waiters  of  his 
favourite  hotel  refused  to  serve  him,  a  state  of  affairs 
which  yielded  only  to  the  personal  pleading  with 
the  proprietor  of  his  charming  second  wife. 

The  Kaiser  liked  the  crowd  of  rich,  gay,  young 
people,  who  for  three  months  of  the  year  came  to 
relieve  the  dullness  of  Berlin. 

He  wanted  Berlin  to  be  so  gay  that  people  would 
be  attracted  there  as  they  are  to  Paris  and  Brussels. 
I  have  heard  him  complain  that  the  majority  of 
German  women  were  dowdy.  "  Ask  your  smart 
London  friends  to  come  here,"  he  would  laughingly 


54  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

urge.  "  Let  them  teach  my  Court  ladies  how  to  do 
their  hair  and  put  on  their  clothes  !  " 

All  that  the  Kaiser  could  do  to  make  Berlin  more 
attractive  he  did,  and  certainly  his  Court  was  the 
most  magnificent  I  have  ever  seen  in  either  the  Eastern 
or  the  Western  world.  As  a  show,  it  remains  unsur- 
passed in  my  memory.  Other  Courts  may  have  been 
more  elegant,  more  refined,  but  for  sheer  weight  of 
display  Berlin  easily  achieved  first  place.  The  great 
white-painted  rooms  with  their  crystal  and  gold, 
and  their  countless  mirrors,  the  throne-room  with 
its  throne,  worthy  of  Solomon,  under  its  magnificently 
ornamented  dais,  the  Garde  du  Corps  in  the  uniform 
that  might  have  been  devised  for  the  knights  of  Ruri- 
tania,  white  breeches,  shining  breastplates,  and  great 
gold  eagles  towering,  with  outstretched  wings,  on 
their  helmets — all  these  certainly  made  a  brave  show. 

The  ex- Kaiser  was  an  imposing  personage,  hand- 
some and  haughty,  carrying  himself  so  well  that  he 
seemed  taller  than  he  actually  was.  He  appeared 
always  in  uniform,  of  which  he  had  numberless  changes. 
I  personally  never  remember  seeing  him  in  mufti. 
Nor  do  I  remember  seeing  him  in  naval  uniform,  though 
I  possess  a  photograph,  which  he  gave  me,  showing 
him  in  a  British  Admiral's  uniform.  He  signed  this 
photograph  "  William  " — which  was  a  curious  departure 
from  his  usual  habit. 

His  swagger  was  equal  to  the  demand  made  upon 
it  by  the  fierce  angle  at  which  he  trained  his  moustache. 

The  Empress,  whose  regal  appearance  on  her  visit 
to  England  in  1911  took  by  surprise  a  people  accus- 
tomed to  thinking  of  her  as  "  dowdy,"  dressed  mag- 
nificently on  the  occasion  of  Court  ceremonies,  and 
in  her  regalia  looked  remarkably  well.  Few  women 


BERLIN  55 

could  wear  showy  jewels  more  imposingly,  and  few 
had  such  jewels  to  wear  as  those  belonging  to  the  crown 
of  Prussia.  Beyond  these  State  appearances  she 
figured  seldom  in  Berlin,  and  there  is  little  to  be 
said  about  her.  She  was  always  most  amiable  to 
her  guests,  and  from  what  one  heard  was  a  good  wife 
and  mother. 

Her  sons  were  little  more  than  boys  when  we  knew 
them.  They  were  kept  very  much  in  the  back- 
ground. Indeed,  I  saw  them  only  a  few  times  during 
my  stay  in  Berlin.  Princess  Louise  was  her  father's 
favourite  child  and  a  very  spoilt  one,  if  one  may 
judge  by  the  stories  one  heard.  He  loved  to  have 
her  sitting  by  him  at  luncheon  or  dinner,  and  her 
place  was  always  next  to  his  no  matter  how  exalted 
the  guests  present.  It  is  said  that  she  played  many 
monkey  tricks  on  them  at  table,  such  as  mixing  her 
father's  wine  with  theirs,  which  the  guests  had  to 
bear  without  complaint.  The  Emperor  evidently  found 
her  antics  very  entertaining. 

To  all  others  the  ex-Kaiser  was  an  autocrat,  exact- 
ing the  most  rigid  discipline,  the  most  unquestioning 
obedience. 

A  characteristic  story  was  told  me  of  him  by  a 
German  officer  of  high  rank. 

Once  when  H.M.  was  driving  in  Unter  den  Linden, 
he  passed  my  friend,  who  was  taking  the  air  on  foot. 
Unfortunately,  his  uniform  lacked  a  button.  This  the 
Kaiser  noticed  at  once.  He  stopped  his  carriage,  the 
offender  was  summoned  to  approach,  and,  after  a  severe 
reprimand,  ordered  back  to  his  quarters.  The  day  being 
fine,  he  decided  to  walk  there,  but  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it  the  Emperor's  carriage  again  came  round, 
and  the  eagle  eye  of  His  Majesty  spotted  him.  For 


56  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  second  time  the  carriage  was  stopped  and  the 
delinquent  summoned ;  this  time  he  was  put  under 
arrest,  and  had  to  serve  a  period  of  confinement  to 
barracks  for  not  having  instantly  obeyed  the  first 
order.  The  officer  treated  in  this  arbitrary  manner 
was  a  colonel  in  the  Garde  du  Corps. 

Prussian  discipline  was  quite  incomprehensible  to 
us.  At  the  races,  for  instance,  we  were  amused  and 
puzzled  to  see  officers  appearing  in  flannels  and 
carrying  tennis  rackets.  I  said  to  one,  "  Do  tell 
me  why  you  come  to  the  races  with  a  tennis  rakcet 
when  there  is  no  chance  of  a  game  ?  "  His  reply 
was,  "  Because  it  is  much  too  hot  to  wear  uni- 
form." This  astonishing  answer  led  to  the  further 
explanation  that  officers  may  only  discard  their  uni- 
forms to  play  tennis.  So  to  escape  the  discomfort 
of  tight,  stiff,  high-collared  coats  and  heavy  helmets 
in  summer,  they  carried  tennis  rakcets  as  often 
as  they  could  make  a  decent  pretence  of  being  about 
to  play,  and  thus  in  case  of  inquiry  were  able  to 
justify  their  appearance  in  flannels. 

One  of  my  pleasant  Berlin  memories  is  connected 
with  the  late  Prince  Hohenlohe,  then  Chancellor, 
who,  though  old,  bent  and  greatly  feared,  could 
make  himself  most  agreeable  when  he  chose.  That 
he  "  chose  "  in  my  case  was  very  flattering  to  my 
young  vanity. 

I  got  to  know  him  first  at  the  house  of  Count  Szecheni, 
the  Austrian  Ambassador,  where  after  an  interminable 
dinner  he  made  his  way  to  my  side  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  evening  talking  to  me  about  all  sorts  of  interest- 
ing things.  When  he  rose  to  go  he  made  some  polite 
remark  to  the  effect  that  he  hoped  he  might  soon 
have  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  us  at  his  own  table  ! 


1HE  KAISER 
(The  photo  is  signed  in  English) 


BERLIN  57 

"  Ah,  no,"  I  laughingly  replied,  "  not  soon !  For 
I  have  vowed  to  myself  that  I  will  never  dine  with 
you  till  I  can  have  the  pleasure  of  sitting  next  you, 
and  for  this  honour  I  must  wait  until  I  am  at  least 
fifty  and  an  Ambassadress !  " 

I  was  making  chaffing  allusion  to  the  fact  that  as 
wives  take  the  official  precedence  of  their  husbands 
in  diplomatic  circles,  my  place  as  the  wife  of  a  Second 
Secretary  would  naturally  be  very  far  from  him  at  his 
table  !  Diplomatists,  on  the  other  hand,  all  take  pre- 
cedence of  other  guests. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  laughed,  "  I  will  arrange  that — 
you  will  see  !  " 

And,  sure  enough,  a  few  days  afterwards  we  received 
an  invitation  to  dine  with  him.  The  room  was 
already  full  when  we  entered,  but  to  my  surprise 
the  Chancellor  advanced  towards  me  and  offered  me 
his  arm. 

"  There !  "  he  said,  patting  my  hand  as  we  went 
into  the  dining-room,  "  what  do  you  think  of  my 
little  ruse  ?  You  and  your  husband  are  the  only 
diplomatists  present,  and  so  I  can  have  you  next 
me.  I  had  to  arrange  it  so,  as  you  told  me  you  would 
not  otherwise  have  come  !  ' 

At  the  time  of  our  stay  in  Berlin  the  greatest  social 
figure  in  the  capital  was  the  English  wife  of  Prince 
Henry  of  Pless,  a  German  magnate  holding  vast 
estates  in  Southern  Germany.  She  was  young,  very 
charming,  unusually  beautiful,  frank  and  unaffected 
to  a  degree  which  alarmed  a  people  accustomed  from 
the  cradle,  as  the  Germans  were,  to  strict  ceremony 
and  order. 

But  no  sketch  of  Berlin  in  the  early  years  of  the 
century  would  be  complete  without  allusion  to  her. 


58  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

She  was  a  child  of  Nature  who  paid  no  heed  to  estab- 
lished customs,  but  openly  defied  conventions  and 
broke  social  rules,  playing  pranks  with  a  childish 
naughtiness  which  was  immensely  attractive. 

Naturally,  as  we  were  both  English  and  both  young, 
we  saw  a  great  deal  of  one  another.  When  I  went  to 
see  her,  after  the  birth  of  her  eldest  boy,  I  was  so 
impressed  with  her  exquisite  fairness  as  she  lay  propped 
up  against  her  pillows  that  I  told  her  how  lovely 
she  was  looking.  "  Lovely !  "  she  exclaimed,  look- 
ing at  her  reflection  in  a  hand-mirror.  "  Nonsense  ! 
just  wait  a  moment !  ''  Then,  "  Here,  Ann,"  she 
called  to  her  maid,  "  bring  me  my  hair."  Along 
came  the  maid  with  a  box  full  of  curls  through  which 
the  Princess  searched.  "  That  will  do,"  she  said, 
dismissing  the  girl  with  the  half-empty  box.  "  Now, 
look  at  the  difference,"  she  cried,  and  as  she  spoke 
she  triumphantly  pinned  the  curls  in  place,  adding 
a  huge  pink  satin  bow  behind  her  ear.  And  indeed 
she  was  lovely,  just  like  a  big  flaxen  doll.  At  this 
time,  when  puffed-out,  monstrously  large  coiffures 
were  worn,  almost  every  woman  added  to  her  tresses 
(they  still  do),  yet  the  Princess  was  the  only  woman 
I  knew  who  would  have  admitted  it  so  openly. 

Before  private  theatricals  had  become  so  much 
the  vogue  she  surprised  the  staid  Berliners  by  the 
theatrical  entertainments  she  organized  in  aid  of 
charities  in  which  she  was  interested.  She  was  helped 
by  the  fact  that  her  brother-in-law  was  Comptroller 
of  the  State  Theatre. 

Once  she  was  responsible  for  a  most  successful 
marionette  show,  a  "  Puppenfee,"  given  in  the  house 
of  her  father-in-law,  in  which  all  the  smart  youth  of 
Berlin  appeared  in  the  character  of  mechanical  dolls. 


BERLIN  59 

I  was  a  butterfly,  I  remember,  and  did  what  I  con- 
sidered a  wonderful  dance  on  the  tips  of  my  toes  with 
arms  extended,  wearing  a  marvellous  garment  which 
I  had  been  permitted  to  select  from  the  wardrobe 
of  the  Imperial  Opera  House.  Our  performance  was 
the  great  social  event  of  that  season,  and  Princess 
Daisy's  charities  benefited  greatly. 

When  acting  as  hostess  at  her  husband's  country 
place  in  South  Germany,  her  behaviour  was  even 
more  unconventional  than  it  was  in  Berlin.  He 
was  a  great  nobleman,  steeped  in  family  traditions, 
and  liked  things  to  be  done  top-notch,  a  taste  which 
was  not  shared  by  his  wife.  She  was  in  her  own 
room  upstairs  one  day  when  she  heard  the  arrival 
of  a  visitor.  Tiptoeing  across  the  gallery  she  peeped 
over  the  railings  into  the  hall  below  and  saw  a  man 
standing  there  waiting.  Instantly  a  practical  joke 
suggested  itself  to  her.  She  ran  back  into  her  bed- 
room and  re-appeared  a  moment  later  with  a  jug 
of  water  which  she  emptied  on  the  figure  below. 
She  was  not  in  the  least  dismayed  to  find  that  the 
wrathful,  spluttering  man  who  turned  up  his  face 
to  see  where  the  cold  douche  had  come  from  was 
not  the  frisky  young  officer  whom  she  had  mistaken 
him  for,  but  a  neighbouring  landowner  of  noble 
birth  and  great  importance,  whom  she  hardly  knew, 
and  who  had  driven  over  twenty  miles  to  pay  her  a 
ceremonious  call ! 

Her  cavalier  treatment  of  her  admirers  was  un- 
paralleled, though  the  poor  creatures  were  usually  so 
helplessly  in  love  with  her  that  they  seemed  to  bear 
her  no  ill-will  for  the  scorn  she  heaped  upon  them. 
One  summer  evening,  when  we  were  all  gathered  on 
the  lawn,  she  turned  to  a  youth  and,  pointing  to  a 


60  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

chestnut  tree,  said  pensively,  "  How  I  should  like  to 
have  a  chestnut  off  that  tree !  How  I  wish  some 
one  would  get  me  one !  " 

Straightway  the  youth  set  out  to  satisfy  her  whim. 
He  climbed  the  tree,  ill-attired  as  he  was  for  the 
purpose.  For  some  moments  she  amused  herself 
calling  out  directions  to  him,  leading  him  always 
higher  and  higher,  from  one  branch  to  another,  all 
at  the  risk  of  a  serious  fall,  until  she  tired  of  the  joke, 
and  laughingly  called  him  back. 

Discomfited  and  dishevelled  he  stood  before  her. 
Then  she  turned  to  a  servant  and,  pointing  to  the 
foolish  boy,  said  in  her  very  bad  German  (she  never 
acquired  the  language  of  her  adopted  country)  :  "  Take 
this  gentleman  to  the  stables.  He  is  a  donkey.  Feed 
him  well,  and  remember  that  he  eats  only  thistles." 

On  another  occasion  we  were  staying  at  her  country 
place  when  the  Governor  of  Silesia  and  his  wife  were 
expected  on  a  semi-official  visit.  Our  host  was 
extremely  anxious  that  they  should  be  received  with 
due  ceremony,  and  he  impressed  on  his  wife  the 
necessity  of  her  being  at  the  threshold  of  the  castle 
to  receive  them. 

No  sooner  had  he  set  out  in  his  great  coach,  drawn 
by  four  horses,  with  postilions  and  outriders,  to 
meet  the  distinguished  visitors  at  the  railway  station 
than  she  announced  her  intention  of  going  down 
to  paddle  in  the  lake.  She  gave  orders  to  the  servants 
that  when  they  arrived  the  Prince  and  Princess 
should  be  brought  down  there.  Tea  was  to  be  served 
at  the  lake-side.  Nothing  could  make  her  change 
her  mind,  and,  though  we  all  tried  to  dissuade  her, 
she  insisted  on  dragging  us  all  off  to  while  away  a  hot 
afternoon  by  the  water's  edge. 


BERLIN  61 

The  shores  of  the  lake  were  pleasant,  and  there  we 
stayed,  even  after  the  great  coach  had  come  rolling 
back  bringing  the  visitors  to  the  house  where  no 
hostess  waited  to  receive  them.  At  length  we  saw 
them  on  foot  coming  over  the  greensward  towards 
us,  an  angry,  humiliated  husband,  and  two  furious 
German  grandees,  bitterly  resentful,  it  seemed,  at 
the  slight  cast  upon  them.  Never  shall  I  forget 
the  expression  on  the  lady's  face  at  this  reception 
by  her  hostess.  But  nobody  could  be  angry  with 
Daisy  for  long ;  she  was  so  warm-hearted  and  kind 
in  spite  of  her  thoughtlessness. 

It  must  have  been  a  great  grief  to  her  to  have 
two  sons  fighting  against  us  in  the  Great  War.  From 
some  of  the  Prisoners  of  War  who  came  to  Holland 
from  Germany  I  heard  that  she  had  never  missed  a 
chance  of  helping  English  prisoners  when  she  could. 

Never  have  I  known  anything  so  stiff  and  formal 
as  Berlin  "  official  "  receptions.  Nobody  spoke  above 
a  whisper,  and  the  room  was  sibilant  with  hissed 
consonants.  I  frequently  had  to  attend  these  gather- 
ings, and  they  were  something  of  an  ordeal  to  one 
unaccustomed  to  an  etiquette  so  rigid  and  so  com- 
plicated. 

For  instance,  there  was  a  distinct  code  of  etiquette 
concerned  with  the  sofa.  Unfortunately,  I  committed 
a  serious  breach  of  this  sofa  etiquette  at  a  party 
which  we  attended  at  our  Embassy  on  the  very  day 
of  our  arrival  in  Berlin,  when  I  ventured  for  a  moment 
to  sit  down  at  one  end  of  a  huge  settee,  in  the  distant 
corner  of  which,  talking  together,  sat  two  ladies 
whom  I  afterwards  discovered  were  Countess  Biilow, 
the  wife  of  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and 
Countess  Brockdorff,  the  Grande  Dame  de  la  Cour. 


62  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

So  great  a  personage  was  the  latter  that  a  visit 
to  her  was  considered  equivalent  to  paying  one's 
respects  to  the  Empress  in  person  !  I  was  unaware 
of  any  breach  of  etiquette  on  my  part  in  occupying 
that  corner,  till  the  ladies,  pausing  in  their  conver- 
sation, looked  severely  at  me  through  their  lorgnettes. 
"  Ach,"  said  one  to  the  other  in  her  most  pompous 
manner,  "  jetzt,  sind  Wir  drei  Excellenzen  auf  dem 
Sofa  !  "  ("  Ah  !  Now  we  are  three  Excellencies  on  this 
sofa !  ")  I  jumped  up  as  if  I  had  been  shot,  for  I 
remembered  in  a  flash  "  the  etiquette  of  the  sofa." 

As  a  member  of  the  British  Embassy  I  had  to  pay 
my  respects  to  Countess  Biilow  (now  Princess  Biilow). 
I  found  her  in  an  immense  and  rather  dark  salon, 
presiding  on  a  hard  dining-room  chair  over  a  circle 
of  ladies  on  other  equally  hard  dining-room  chairs. 
She  sat  with  her  back  to  the  light.  Each  guest  as 
she  arrived  was  announced  in  a  loud  voice  and  was 
waved  to  the  seat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  lady  pre- 
siding, where  she  indulged  in  a  brief  conversation  on 
the  weather  and  other  usual  topics  till  a  new-comer 
was  announced,  in  whose  interest  she  vacated  her 
place  and  took  one  lower ! 

The  reception  reminded  one  for  all  the  world  of 
a  game  of  musical  chairs,  only  without  the  relief  of 
music. 

My  recollections  of  Berlin  up  to  1899  are  very 
pleasant.  But  then  the  Boer  War  broke  out  and 
split  our  little  circle  into  pro-Boers  and  pro-English. 
Alas  !  there  were  lamentably  few  of  the  latter. 

After  that  outbreak  of  war  "  things  were  never 
the  same  again,"  as  the  old  song  says,  and  certainly 
we  never  felt  the  same  to  the  friends  we  had  pre- 
viously thought  so  much  of,  so-called  "  friends," 


BERLIN  63 

who,  the  moment  war  broke  out,  showed  the  cloven 
hoof. 

Count  Herbert  Bismarck,  the  spoilt  child  of  London, 
on  the  day  when  for  the  tenth  time  Mafeking  was 
reported  to  have  fallen,  rushed  round  the  floor  of 
the  Reichstag  waving  a  telegram  with  the  news, 
mad  with  joy  at  this  great  reverse  to  our  arms.  And 
there  were  many  like  him.  The  few  who  stuck  to 
us  at  the  time  of  that  terrible  chapter  in  our  history 
could  be  reckoned  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand. 

I  remember  the  late  Colonel  Jimmy  Grierson  (after- 
wards General),  who  was  Military  Attache  at  our 
Embassy,  coming  to  our  house  one  day.  "  I  can't 
stand  it  any  longer/'  he  said.  "  I  can  never  again 
set  foot  in  the  Club."  (He  had  been  tremendously 
popular  with  German  officers,  and  was  in  the  habit 
of  taking  all  his  meals  in  their  company  at  the  Club.) 
"  The  feeling  is  so  palpably  anti-British  there  and 
the  rejoicing  over  our  reverses  so  undisguised." 

This  was  at  that  moment  in  the  early  weeks  of  the 
war  when  never  a  day  passed  that  did  not  bring 
news  of  defeat  somewhere.  It  was  arranged  then 
that  he  should  have  his  knife  and  fork  laid  always 
at  our  table,  and  that  he  would  come  in  whenever 
he  could.  He  was  in  our  house  when  he  got  his  orders 
to  resign  as  Military  Attache  and  report  home  for 
duty.  How  elated  he  was  that  day !  He  did  very 
well  in  the  Boer  War.  Years  afterwards,  in  the  Great 
War,  he  was  given  command  of  an  Army  Corps,  but 
he  died  suddenly  almost  immediately  after  landing 
in  France. 

As  defeat  after  defeat  was  reported  the  spirits  of 
the  Berlin  populace  seemed  to  rise  higher,  and  when- 
ever I  went  out  of  the  house  I  was  sure  to  meet  some 


64  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

group  of  Germans  in  riotous  mood  celebrating  in 
the  streets  a  further  check  to  the  British  Army. 

The  kinema  was  then  one  of  the  newest  diversions 
in  Berlin.  We  took  a  box  there  one  night  for  a  little 
party  of  friends,  among  whom  was  an  English  girl 
who  had  come  out  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  us. 
Her  high  spirits  nearly  landed  us  in  a  very  tight 
corner. 

The  performance  that  night  began  with  a  show  of 
the  portraits  of  all  the  leading  Generals  in  the  Boer 
War.  The  Boers  were  received  with  cheers,  the 
British  with  derisive  hooting.  Then  followed  the 
portrait  of  Queen  Victoria,  received  with  hisses  and 
cat-calls.  I  saw  my  girl  friend  getting  hotter  and 
hotter,  her  eyes  blazing  with  indignation.  At  length, 
amid  a  scene  of  wild  enthusiasm,  the  picture  of  Kruger 
appeared  on  the  screen.  Before  I  could  stop  her 
my  little  countrywoman  pushed  her  way  to  the  front 
of  the  box,  and,  standing  up  there  well  in  view  of 
the  astounded  audience,  she  put  two  fingers  in  her 
mouth  and,  gallery-boy  fashion,  emitted  a  series  of 
shrill  whistles. 

We  dragged  her  unceremoniously  to  the  back  of  the 
box,  and  as  soon  as  we  could  bundled  her  out  of  the 
theatre,  for  feeling  ran  high  in  those  days,  and  we 
feared  an  unpleasant  diplomatic  incident  as  the 
result  of  her  indiscretion.  She  was  scolded,  but 
no  reprimand,  I  could  see,  could  efface  the  fierce  joy 
she  had  felt  in  making  her  patriotic  protest. 

The  Kaiser's  attitude  during  the  Boer  War  was 
very  characteristic.  It  bore  out  the  appreciation  of 
him  which  a  German  friend  of  mine  once  wrote  me 
in  a  letter  after  we  had  left  Berlin : 

"  The  Kaiser  is  still  the  same.    He  insists  on  being 


BERLIN  65 

the  infant  at  the  christening,  the  bridegroom  at 
the  marriage,  and  the  corpse  at  the  funeral." 

The  conduct  of  the  war  was  a  theme  too  tempting 
for  him  to  neglect,  even  though  his  sympathies — 
at  any  rate,  at  moments,  as  when  he  addressed  his 
encouraging  telegram  to  Kruger — were  pro-Boer.  The 
war  gave  scope  for  his  military  genius  on  paper,  and 
his  tremendous  interest  in  tactics  led  him  to  fight 
all  our  battles  for  us.  He  was  continually  devising 
plans  of  campaign,  by  which  we  could  infallibly 
beat  the  Boer,  and  he  would  frequently  make 
suggestions  for  the  better  conduct  of  our  operations, 
asking  that  his  criticisms  might  be  conveyed  to  our 
Generals. 

When  he  dined  at  the  Embassy  their  supposed 
mistakes  formed  the  constant  theme  of  his  discussions. 
He  would  show  us  just  why  an  attack  had  failed  and 
how  it  might  have  been  converted  into  victory.  He 
would  stride  up  and  down  the  room,  explaining  what 
he  would  have  done  had  he  been  an  English  general. 
There  is  no  doubt  that,  like  Napoleon,  he  felt  himself 
equal  to  winning  any  battle  for  either  side  just  from 
sheer  weight  of  military  genius. 

His  interest  in  our  campaign  culminated  in  a  very 
funny  incident,  the  story  of  which  was  subsequently 
often  told  by  Sir  Frank  Lascelles. 

One  day,  one  of  the  Embassy  maidservants  was 
busy  washing  the  doorstep  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  a  car  drove  up  out  of  which  sprang 
two  German  officers  in  uniform.  One  of  them 
asked  to  see  the  British  Ambassador,  who  at  that 
early  hour  was  still  asleep.  "  Never  mind,"  he 
said,  "  tell  him  the  Emperor  is  here  and  desires  to 
see  him  instantly." 


66  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

The  surprised  housemaid  summoned  the  butler, 
who  rushed  upstairs  to  rouse  Sir  Frank. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  inquired  sleepily,  for  his  habit 
was  to  work  till  long  past  midnight,  and  the  general 
order  was  not  to  call  him  until  he  rang  the  bell.  "  What 
is  it  ?  "  he  growled. 

"  It  is  the  Emperor,"  said  a  voice  at  the  door,  and 
a  figure  pushed  past  the  horrified  servant. 

It  was  indeed  His  Majesty,  who  in  his  impatience 
had  followed  the  servant  up  to  Sir  Frank's  bedroom. 

Our  Ambassador's  embarrassment  can  be  more 
easily  imagined  than  described.  "  Here  was  I," 
he  said  to  me  afterwards  in  describing  the  scene, 
"  still  half-asleep,  unwashed,  unshaved,  and  unfed. 
I  had  not  even  had  my  breakfast.  My  bedroom 
slippers  and  my  dressing-gown  were  both  out  of 
reach.  My  frantic  desire  was  to  find  an  excuse  to 
open  my  window,  for  I  became  acutely  conscious 
that  my  room  was  stuffy.  A  bright  idea  !  I  offered 
His  Majesty  a  cigarette.  If  he  accepted  I  would  get 
a  chance  of  getting  out  of  bed  to  find  one — a  man 
is  at  such  a  terrible  disadvantage  when  an  Emperor 
sits  on  his  bed !  But  the  Kaiser  did  not  want 
to  smoke.  He  had  come  to  see  me  on  very  impor- 
tant business.  He  pushed  me  back  on  the  pillows 
and  advanced  nearer,  unfurling  and  placing  before 
me  a  roll  of  documents  and  maps  which  he  had 
brought  with  him.  Then  I  realized  that  it  was  a 
question  of  yet  another  campaign  which  he  had 
worked  out.  I  seized  the  excuse  of  insufficient  light 
for  the  study  of  the  plans  to  plead  for  permission  to 
get  out  of  bed  for  a  moment.  I  secured  gown  and 
slippers,  pulled  back  the  curtains  and  threw  open 
the  window.  But  the  Emperor  declared  that  I  would 


BERLIN  67 

catch  cold,  and  insisted  on  my  getting  back  into  bed 
before  he  would  expose  his  plan  of  campaign." 

Half  an  hour  passed  and  the  key  to  British  victory 
was  placed  in  Sir  Frank's  hands,  with  an  earnest 
request  that  it  might  be  instantly  dispatched  to 
London. 

Then  His  Majesty  prepared  to  leave.  As  he  turned 
towards  the  door  Sir  Frank  sprang  out  of  bed  and 
again  possessed  himself  of  his  slippers.  Standing 
in  his  pyjamas,  he  bowed  as  the  Emperor  passed  out, 
but  was  still  further  discomfited  to  see  through  the 
open  doorway  a  magnificent  Garde  du  Corps  officer 
in  uniform,  who  had  been  waiting  for  his  master 
outside. 

Pointing  to  Sir  Frank  in  his  undiplomatic  attire,  the 
Emperor  called  out,  "  Hier  ist  eine  Erscheinung " 
("Here's  a  vision!"),  and  shaking  hands  with  the 
Ambassador  he  ran  down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the 
house,  laughing  heartily. 

At  last  came  the  finale  to  our  Berlin  chapter.  A 
stroke  of  luck  in  a  double  sense  closed  our  career  in 
that  town. 

One  morning,  Walter  received  a  telegram  from  the 
Foreign  Office,  saying  that  there  was  a  vacancy  at 
the  Embassy  in  Rome,  which  he  could  fill  if  he  cared 
to  leave  Berlin. 

After  our  Boer  War  experiences  there  we  should 
not  have  regretted  our  transfer,  especially  to  Rome, 
which  we  much  wished  to  see.  But,  alas !  such 
had  been  the  demands  made  upon  the  Privy  Purse 
by  our  stay  in  the  German  capital  that  not  a  farthing 
of  ready  cash  was  left  in  the  till.  To  settle  up  accounts 
in  Berlin,  transport  our  household  to  Rome,  and  furnish 
a  new  home  there,  meant  an  expenditure  of  hundreds 


68  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

of  pounds — which  we  had  not  got.  We  talked  the 
matter  over  at  breakfast,  studied  it  from  every  point 
of  view,  and  finally  decided  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  decline  and  stay  where  we  were. 

So  Walter  concocted  and  dispatched  a  telegram, 
much  regretting  that  important  private  affairs  pre- 
vented him  from  taking  advantage  of  the  opportunity 
offered. 

I  was  terribly  disappointed,  and  after  he  had  gone 
out  to  the  Embassy  sat  brooding  over  our  bad  luck. 
Suddenly  I  bethought  me  of  a  possible  way  out. 

Walter  is  a  first-rate  judge  of  form.  He  has  always 
taken  a  keen  interest  in  racing.  Even  that  morning, 
when  we  were  so  depressed,  he  had  not  failed  to  study 
the  week's  fixtures  at  home,  and  had  given  it  as 
his  opinion  that  there  were  two  "  good  things  "  in 
the  near  future — Ambush  II  for  the  Grand  National 
and  Sir  Geoffrey  for  the  Lincoln  Handicap.  I  would 
have  a  double-event  bet  on  those  two  horses  ! 

There  was  no  time  to  lose.  The  Lincoln  was  to  be 
run  that  day. 

I  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was  twenty  minutes  to 
one.  I  had  got  twenty  minutes  to  write  out  my  wire 
and  get  it  to  the  post  office.  "  Quick  !  "  I  ordered, 
"a  form — a  pencil."  Then  the  message: 

"  Fawn,  double  event  Sir  Geoffrey  and  Ambush  II." 

There!   the  telegram  was  gone. 

Reaction  set  in  after  the  excitement,  and  a  great 
despondency  settled  down  upon  me.  I  had  broken 
my  promise  not  to  bet  any  more  and  had  thrown  away 
another  tenner.  But,  no !  Luck  was  on  my  side 
at  last.  That  same  evening  a  telegram  announced 
that  Sir  Geoffrey  had  won  the  Lincoln  handicap. 


BERLIN  69 

O'Connor  had  accepted  my  bet  at  seventy-two 
to  one.  The  double  came  off.  O'Connor  paid,  and 
we  found  ourselves  in  funds  sufficient  to  take  us  to 
Rome.  Hey,  presto  !  a  second  telegram  to  the  F.O. : 

"  Urgent  private  affairs  satisfactorily  settled.  Can  go  to  Rome 
if  post  still  open." 

The  post  was  still  open.  We  went.  So  are  great 
events  settled ! 

We  still  had  a  few  friends  left  after  the  Boer  War 
had  sifted  the  chaff  from  the  grain.  These  we  sum- 
moned to  the  last  "  Liebesmahl  "  ("  Love-meal,"  as  the 
poetic  German  describes  the  speeding  of  the  parting 
guest  by  a  dinner).  We  numbered  twelve  at  this 
farewell  dinner.  We  had,  I  remember,  in  addition 
to  some  moselle,  a  dozen  bottles  of  champagne  and 
about  seven  of  port,  which  did  not  seem  worth  the 
carriage  to  Rome  in  those  lucky  days  when  champagne 
was  within  the  means  of  us  all. 

These  were  all  placed  upon  the  table  and  our 
Prussian  friends  invited  to  drink  to  our  next  merry 
meeting.  And  right  well  they  acquitted  themselves 
of  the  task.  This  dinner  was  an  eye-opener  to  me, 
who  thought  I  knew  my  friends.  Not  a  drop  of 
that  wine  was  left  and  yet  they  departed  sober ! 

Their  last  act  was  to  drink  our  healths  out  of  their 
reversed  helmets,  after  which  they  presented  me 
with  one  of  the  heavy  gold  eagles  that  surmount  them, 
as  a  souvenir  of  the  occasion. 

Prince  Emanuel  Salm  Salm  was  one  of  our  guests 
on  that  occasion.  He  was  in  German  East  Africa 
when  the  Great  War  broke  out,  on  a  big-game  expedi- 
tion with  his  wife.  He  returned  at  once  to  his  country, 
or,  rather,  tried  to — for  we  captured  him  on  the  way 


7o  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

and  he  was  interned  at  Gibraltar.  He  was  after- 
wards sent  home  in  exchange  for  Colonel  Gordon,  V.C. 
But  he  would  not  fight  against  us,  and  was  given 
a  command  on  the  Russian  Front,  where  he  was 
killed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ROME 

We  are  transferred  to  Rome — The  tragedy  of  King  Humbert — I 
see  the  pagan  relics  of  Rome  with  Professor  Boni,  and  have  a 
private  audience  with  the  Pope. 

KING  HUMBERT  was  reigning  in  Italy  when 
we  were  transferred  to  Rome,  but  shortly 
after  our  arrival  there  we  were  horrified  one  morning 
to  hear  by  telephone  from  the  Embassy  that  he  had 
been  assassinated  (July  29,  1900)  in  the  streets  of 
Monza. 

His  son,  Victor  Emmanuel  III,  the  present  King, 
succeeded  him,  and  in  a  letter  of  mine  to  my  mother, 
dated  December  23,  1901,  I  find  the  following  informal 
sketch  of  Queen  Elena,  to  whom  I  had  the  honour 
of  being  presented  at  that  time.  Queen  Elena,  it 
will  be  remembered,  is  a  daughter  of  the  splendid 
old  soldier  King  of  Montenegro,  deposed  after  the 
Great  War  : 

"  Yesterday  I  was  received  by  the  Queen.  I  found 
her  very  charming.  She  is  a  sweet  and  gracious 
lady.  Her  hair  being  very  dark  and  her  dress  black 
— for  she  is  still  in  mourning  for  King  Humbert — 
she  made  rather  a  sad  impression  as  she  sat  on 
a  sofa  in  a  large  and  richly  furnished  audience- 
chamber,  under  the  portrait  of  the  murdered  King. 

71 


72  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

Perhaps  it  was  the  still  recent  shock  of  his  tragic 
end  which  tinged  her  personality  with  melancholy. 
She  spoke  very  affectionately  of  him,  deploring  the 
shortsightedness  of  the  ruffians  who  had  slain  so 
good  a  monarch. 

"  Her  manner  changed,  however,  and  became 
much  happier  when  she  spoke  of  her  husband.  She 
had  a  quite  bourgeois  conceit  for  his  health.  She  said, 
laughingly,  that  he  had  very  little  time  nowadays 
for  his  meals,  affairs  of  State  being  so  urgent,  and 
that  this  perpetual  hurry  was  very  bad  for  him,  so 
much  so  that  she  made  a  point  of  dawdling  over  break- 
fast every  morning  at  least  half  an  hour  so  as  to 
keep  him  seated  at  the  table  for  that  short  time." 

In  Italy  it  is  the  custom  when  a  sovereign  dies  that  his 
suite  of  apartments  in  the  Quirinal  should  be  closed  for 
a  certain  number  of  years  out  of  respect  for  his  memory. 
In  this  way  it  happens  that  a  great  part  of  the  palace 
is  now  closed  owing  to  the  deaths  of  Kings  Victor 
Emmanuel  II  and  Humbert ;  the  Queen  told  me 
that  the  present  Royal  Family  are  consequently 
obliged  to  put  up  with  very  restricted  accommoda- 
tion. It  is  a  curious  national  custom,  this,  to  incon- 
venience the  living  out  of  respect  for  the  dead. 

On  December  24,  1901,  Queen  Margherita,  the 
beautiful  Consort  of  the  murdered  king,  came  back 
to  the  capital  for  the  first  time  since  the  death  of 
her  husband  and  took  possession  of  the  new  palace 
which  had  been  prepared  for  her. 

She  was  adored  by  the  people,  and  we  watched 
her  arrival  from  one  of  the  windows  of  our  house 
in  the  Via  Veneto,  which  was  only  a  stone's  throw 
from  hers.  The  crowd  greeted  her  vociferously,  and 


ROME  73 

she  came  out  in  her  deep  widow's  weeds,  a  sad  and 
lonely  figure,  to  bow  her  acknowledgments  from  the 
balcony. 

It  must  have  been  a  sad  home-coming  to  her. 
But  it  was  said  that  her  pleasure  in  her  new  house 
was  so  great  that  her  entrance  into  it  brought  to 
her  beautiful  face  the  first  smile  that  had  been  seen 
on  it  since  the  ruthless  hand  of  a  regicide  had  severed 
the  current  of  her  life  as  the  beloved  Queen  of  Italy. 

Roman  society  was  very  gay  in  those  days.  Every- 
body was  mad  on  theatricals.  Victoria  Colonna  was 
the  reigning  beauty.  Maria  Mazzoleni  was  a  charm- 
ing hostess,  and  Jane  San  Faustino  kept  us  all  laugh- 
ing with  her  original  views  of  men  and  matters. 
Marion  Crawford  was  busy  writing  his  novels,  and 
Mary  Crawslay  kept  open  house  for  her  friends.  But 
to  my  mind  one  of  the  most  interesting  person- 
alities in  Rome  at  that  time  was  the  late  Pro- 
fessor Boni.  Shortly  after  arriving  at  our  new 
post,  Walter  being  too  hopelessly  engrossed  with 
his  official  duties  to  be  able  to  accompany  me,  I 
sallied  out  early  one  morning  to  try  to  see  some- 
thing of  Rome.  I  didn't  know  where  I  was  going 
when  I  hailed  an  open  cab,  but  just  told  the  man  to 
take  me  for  a  giro  in  Roma  antigua.  We  came  to 
the  Forum,  and  the  sight  of  it  reminded  me  of  old 
Boni,  whom  I  had  met  on  a  former  visit  to  the  Italian 
capital.  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  to  call  upon 
him  to  see  if  he  would  remember  me.  We  drove  up 
to  the  principal  entrance  of  the  Forum,  and  I  told 
the  porter  at  the  gate  that  I  wanted  to  see  Cavarieri 
Boni  himself.  It  wasn't  yet  ten  o'clock,  and  he 
shook  his  head  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Do  you  ?  "  but 
he  sold  me  an  entrance  ticket  and  told  me  how  to 


74  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

get  to  the  little  Farnese  palace,  designed  by  Michel 
Angelo,  in  which  the  Professor  lived. 

I  got  there,  and  my  heart  rather  misgave  me  when, 
in  answer  to  my  timid  knock,  Boni  himself  came  to 
the  door  looking  unutterably  bored  and  unutterably 
tired,  failing  also  completely  to  recognize  me  as  an 
old  friend.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  hating 
me  as  another  of  the  odious  tourist  breed.  He 
took  me  into  his  study,  a  delightfully  untidy  Roman 
room  with  frescoed  walls,  paved  floors  and  trestle 
tables  littered  with  plans,  photos,  casts  and  geomet- 
rical instruments,  and  he  asked  me  in  his  most  tired 
professional  manner  what  he  could  do  for  me.  Instead 
of  answering  I  exclaimed  out  of  the  fullness  of  my 
heart,  "  Oh,  how  tired  you  look,  how  awfully  tired  !  " 
This  seemed  to  arrest  his  attention.  "  Who  did 
you  say  you  were  ?  "  he  asked;  "  what  name  did  you 
say  ?  '  And  when  I  told  him  again  and  reminded 
him  of  former  kindnesses  in  the  old  days  he  suddenly 
remembered  (or  pretended  he  did),  and  pulling  him- 
self together  inquired  again  with  a  semblance  of 
interest  what  I  particularly  desired  to  see.  "  Oh, 
nothing,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  a  tourist.  I  have  not  come 
to  Rome  to  count  its  stones  in  a  given  number  of 
days,  but  to  live  here,  to  bask  in  its  glorious  sun- 
shine, to  imbibe  the  spirit  of  it,  and  little  by  little 
to  learn  to  know  it  in  all  its  moods."  When  I  said 
this  a  complete  change  came  over  him.  "  Oh,  then," 
he  exclaimed,  "it  is  the  spirit  of  Rome  you  love,  it 
is  the  pagan  joy  of  it !  Then  would  you  like  to  see 
my  garden  with  its  matchless  views  and  its  classical 
herbs  ?  Shall  I  show  you  Virgil's  corner  all  full  of 
his  flowers,  and  the  lake  of  blue  irises,  and  the  old  wall 
covered  with  a  glory  of  Baveno  roses  ?  '  And  he 


ROME  ?5 

reached  up  to  a  shelf  for  his  old  straw  hat  and  took 
me  by  the  hand  to  draw  me  outside  into  his  beloved 
garden. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  is  my  hour  in  the  day  before  the 
scientists  and  the  tourists  come  down  upon  me,  and 
I  thought  you  had  come  to  spoil  it !  But  now  I 
know  that  you  will  spend  it  with  me  helping  me  to 
re-clothe  my  pagan  relics  with  the  terra  madre  and  the 
blossoms  which  bloomed  here  before  they  were  even 
thought  of !  See,  here  are  the  latest  remains  I  have 
unearthed.  I  came  upon  them  by  chance  as  I  was 
pulling  down  a  bank  to  make  room  for  more  flowers." 
And  he  showed  me  a  kind  of  recessed  arbour  with 
tesselated  pavement,  built  by  Paul  III  probably 
with  Michel  Angelo's  help,  and  in  the  pavement  one 
could  still  see  the  mouths  of  the  little  lead  pipes  out 
of  which  water  had  gushed  in  fountains.  Fancy 
digging  in  one's  garden  and  accidentally  making  such 
a  find !  Am  I  not  lucky  ?  "  commented  the  old  Pro- 
fessor. 

But  little  by  little  the  work  of  his  day  began,  and 
solemn-faced  overseers  caught  us  up  and  begged  for 
instructions,  for  a  word  of  consultation,  for  a  signature 
to  a  plan.  He  seemed  to  forget  me,  and  moved  about 
from  place  to  place  in  the  Forum  into  which  we  had  now 
wandered,  examining  the  various  works  being  carried 
out  under  his  direction,  giving  an  order  here,  an  order 
there.  Then  suddenly  he  turned  to  me  again :  "If 
you  are  brave  and  are  not  afraid  of  darkness  and 
steep  ladders  I'll  take  you  right  down  under  all  this," 
he  said. 

So  down  we  went  together,  descending  a  succession 
of  extremely  steep  ladders  into  what  he  called  the 
Mundos,  some  very  interesting  granaries  and  sub- 


76  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

terranean  chambers  of  the  time  of  Romulus,  and  a 
marvellous  morning  I  spent  with  him  listening  to  an 
absorbing  scientific  lecture  delivered  for  my  sole 
benefit.  "  I  have  got  to  do  all  this  again  to-morrow 
morning,"  he  said  at  last,  "for  a  party  of  experts 
from  one  of  the  German  Universities  is  coming,  but 
it  would  have  been  a  shame  to  take  you  round  as  the 
tail  of  a  scientific  comet !  "  and  he  laughed  at  his 
joke.  "  Come,  now,  and  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with 
me." 

It  was  lunch  time  before  I  left  this  charming,  moody, 
romantic  old  scientist  to  his  work  and  his  meditations 
amongst  the  stones  of  old  Rome  and  the  flowers 
of  his  garden.  When  I  rose  to  go  he  stroked  the 
sleeve  of  my  dress.  "  That's  pretty,"  he  said.  "  Now 
go  !  "  and  before  I  was  aware  of  his  intention  he 
kissed  me  lightly  on  the  cheek,  the  sort  of  kiss  an  old 
mediseval  saint  might  imprint  upon  the  statue  of 
the  Madonna. 

Before  leaving  Rome  we  were  received  in  private 
Audience  by  Pope  Leo  XIII.  Being  on  the  staff  of 
the  British  Ambassador  accredited  to  the  King,  it 
was  against  etiquette  for  us  to  apply  for  an  Audience 
at  the  Vatican  until  the  transfer  of  Walter  to  a 
new  post  reduced  us  for  the  time  being  to  the  status 
of  ordinary  tourists.  When,  therefore,  he  was  pro- 
moted First  Secretary  to  the  Legation  at  Peking, 
and  the  time  came  for  us  to  leave  Rome,  we  asked 
for  and  obtained  an  audience  of  his  Holiness. 

I  had  seen  him  the  day  before  in  one  of  those  splendid 
ceremonies  in  St.  Peter's  when  he  was  carried  in  state 
in  the  Sedia,  with  the  two  immense  flabelli  (peacock- 
feather  fans)  waved  above  his  head,  through  a  cheering 
crowd  of  thousands  of  pilgrims  of  all  nations.  It 


ROME  77 

was  the  occasion,  if  I  remember  rightly,  of  the  solemn 
beatification  of  Joan  of  Arc.  I  was  therefore  all  the 
more  struck  with  the  simplicity  of  our  reception  in 
his  private  study  on  the  following  day. 

When  we  entered,  the  old  man  was  seated  in 
an  arm-chair  behind  a  large  writing-table  littered 
with  papers  and  documents.  He  did  not  move  as 
we  advanced  to  kneel  at  his  feet,  except  to  turn  towards 
us  as,  with  two  fingers  raised,  he  gave  us  the  Papal 
benediction.  He  then  spoke  to  us  for  some  time  in 
French,  asking  interested  questions  concerning  my 
husband's  career  and  our  private  interests.  His 
intellect  and  memory  seemed  as  keen  as  ever,  and  his 
eyes  were  as  bright  as  those  of  a  child,  in  spite  of  his 
ninety-one  years. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  plain  white  cassock  with  the 
white  pallium  about  his  shoulders.  On  his  white 
hair  rested  a  crimson  skull-cap  which,  together  with 
his  low  open  shoes  of  crimson,  lent  a  vivid  splash  of 
colour  to  his  otherwise  all-white  appearance.  From 
his  neck  hung  a  gold  chain  to  which  was  attached 
a  large  amethyst  cross.  His  face  and  figure  were  so 
transparent  and  ascetic  that  one  felt  that  a  breath 
might  at  any  moment  waft  him  to  that  Heaven  to 
which  he  so  evidently  belonged. 

When  our  audience  was  at  an  end,  he  dismissed  us 
with  a  gentle  wave  of  his  hand  and  a  simple  "  Main- 
tenant,  allez,  mes  enfants  !  " 


CHAPTER  V 

PEKING 

The  fascination  of  China — Humours  of  my  Chinese  cooks  that  were 
not  always  amusing — I  become  friendly  with  the  famous 
Empress-Dowager  and  am  admitted  to  the  intimacy  of  her 
Palace — The  pitiful  little  Emperor — The  belated,  fantastic 
funeral  of  Li  Hung  Chang — A  lightning  trip,  and  the  bet  I 
won  of  Sir  Claude  Macdonald. 

AT  the  end  of  1900  Walter  was  transferred  from 
Rome  to  Peking.  I  am  often  asked  which  of 
the  many  countries  I  have  lived  in  I  prefer,  but 
oddly  enough  I  find  it  very  difficult  to  say.  I  suppose, 
on  the  whole,  China  was  the  most  interesting  because 
it  was  thoroughly  unlike  any  other  place. 

We  travelled  there  in  a  German  ship  called  the 
Hamburg,  and  we  sailed  from  Naples  the  day  before 
Christmas.  Everything  on  board  was  solid  and  stodgy, 
passengers  and  food  included.  We  used  to  try  to 
relieve  the  tedium  of  the  long  winter  evenings  by 
"  parlour  games "  conducted  by  the  Chief  Officer. 
The  favourite  amongst  these  was  "musical  chairs." 
Solemnly  our  Teutonic  friends  goose-stepped  round 
the  big  dining-room.  The  chairs  being  fixed  and  on 
pivots,  it  was  easy  to  cheat,  and  when  the  music  stopped, 
a  lurch  of  the  ship  could  always  be  made  responsible 
for  the  subsidence  of  a  not  unwilling  Fraulein  into  the 
lap  of  a  particularly  smart  young  "  Offizier."  Before 
the  end  of  the  journey  these  fortunate  incidents  resulted 

78 


PEKING  79 

in  several  matrimonial  engagements.  No  wonder  the 
game  was  popular. 

Among  the  passengers  on  board  we  had  the  Chinese 
Minister  to  Berlin  and  his  wife  and  children,  who  were 
returning  to  Peking  after  four  years'  stay  in  the  German 
capital.  The  father,  a  venerable-looking  Chinaman, 
with  horn  spectacles  on  his  nose,  belonged  to  the  old 
school  of  Chinese  statesmen.  Probably  he  knew  most 
of  the  maxims  of  Confucius  by  heart  and  had  studied  the 
works  of  that  sage  until  his  own  ideas  had  been  forced 
into  the  same  time-honoured  groove,  from  which  it  was 
henceforth  impossible  for  them  to  emerge.  For  he 
was  hardly  human.  I  never  saw  him  laugh  during 
that  long  voyage,  though  I  had  ample  opportunities 
of  studying  him  while  I  played  with  his  children.  His 
wife  was,  of  course,  invisible,  the  "  mean  thing  of  the 
inner  apartments,"  being  confined  to  her  cabin. 

The  children  had  been  taken  to  Europe  when  quite 
young,  and,  having  lived  there  four  years,  had  become 
partly  Europeanized.  The  eldest  girl  was  about  twelve 
years  old.  She  had  acquired  sufficient  knowledge  of 
German,  picked  up  with  a  child's  facility,  to  be  able 
to  talk  fairly  fluently  in  that  language,  and  eagerly 
I  extracted  from  her  all  sorts  of  details  about  her  life 
and  people. 

She  hardly  knew  China,  having  been  so  long  away 
from  it,  but  she  told  me  that  her  name  was  Gundi  and 
that  it  signified  "  Who  will  make  way  for  a  brother," 
because  in  China  girls  are  not  wanted,  only  boys,  who 
can  later  on  worship  the  manes  of  their  fathers.  Her 
face  was  pitted  with  smallpox ;  she  had  had  this 
dread  disease  as  a  child. 

As  early  as  A.D.  960  inoculation  for  smallpox  was 
practised  in  China,  and  then,  as  now,  the  virus  was 


8o  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

introduced  into  the  system  by  inhaling  through  the 
nostrils,  instead  of  by  puncture,  as  with  us.  Gundi 
told  me  that  all  Chinese  babies  have  smallpox  given 
to  them  in  this  way  and  that  a  great  many  die  of  it. 
Her  feet  were  tiny,  encased  in  little  embroidered 
black  satin  slippers,  and  when  I  asked  her  if  they 
hurt  her  she  laughed,  and  for  answer  took  me  by  the 
hand  down  to  her  mother's  cabin,  where,  without 
further  ceremony,  she  initiated  me  into  the  mysteries 
of  Chinese  foot  binding,  for  it  was  being  inflicted  at 
that  moment  on  her  weeping  baby  sister. 

It  was  done  with  narrow  bandages  steeped  in  boil- 
ing water,  which  were  applied  as  hot  as  the  tiny  feet 
could  bear  them  and  tightly  rolled.  In  drying, 
the  bandages  became  quite  hard,  so  that  all  possibility 
of  growth  was  excluded. 

Later  on  in  life,  when  movement  becomes  more 
dignified,  the  loss  of  her  "  understanding  "  does  not 
seem  so  serious  a  matter  in  a  Chinese  woman,  who 
is  never  known  to  hurry,  but  I  used  to  pity  the  poor 
little  children.  I  have  often  seen  a  girl  at  play  with 
her  brothers  upset  by  a  twitch  of  her  pigtail,  so  un- 
stable was  her  centre  of  gravity. 

We  arrived  in  Peking  early  in  1902  and  found 
Walter's  delightful  new  chief,  Sir  Ernest  Satow,  wait- 
ing for  us  at  the  Water  Gate  Station.  His  coming 
so  far  to  welcome  us  was  all  the  kinder  as  a  blinding 
sandstorm  was  raging  at  the  time. 

The  atmosphere  in  Peking  on  that  occasion  was 
literally  as  thick  and  yellow,  from  flying  dust  particles, 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  as  it  might  have 
been  in  one  of  our  regulation  London  fogs.  No  one 
who  has  not  experienced  these  sandstorms  can  have 
any  idea  of  the  misery  of  them. 


MONSK1GNEUR  FAVIER 
Defender  of  Pel  tang  Cathedial  during  the  siege  of 


PEKING  81 

I  walked  up  to  the  Legation  with  Sir  Ernest,  cling- 
ing to  his  arm,  and  with  bent  head  trying  to  make 
headway  against  a  wall  of  cutting,  blinding  yellow 
dust  particles.  Eventually  we  found  ourselves  ring- 
ing at  the  front  door  of  our  new  home. 

The  First  Secretary's  house,  in  which  we  lived  during 
the  whole  of  our  stay  in  Peking,  was  one  of  several 
built  for  the  accommodation  of  the  Legation  staff 
within  the  protecting  walls  of  the  British  compound. 

On  those  walls  a  tablet  is  now  framed  bearing  the 
inscription  "  Lest  we  forget !  "  This  was  put  up 
after  the  Boxer  troubles  by  the  British  defenders. 
The  marks  of  the  attacking  Chinese  are  still  visible 
in  the  masonry,  reminding  one  of  what  might  have 
been  but  for  the  heroic  defence  put  up  by  a 
handful  of  white  men  against  the  "  Yellow  Peril " 
of  1900. 

I  remember  that  when  Walter  was  first  appointed 
to  Peking  I  could  form  no  idea  of  our  future  home, 
but  I  felt  a  decided  aversion  from  the  thought  of  being 
surrounded  by  Chinese  servants — I  imagined  they 
would  be  dirty  and  smelly,  with  repulsive  hands. 

Looking  back,  I  often  regret  them  and  wish  I  had 
them  now.  They  were  the  cleanest  people  imagin- 
able, and  the  quietest  in  their  service.  They  never 
gave  the  slightest  trouble  and  never  wanted  an  even- 
ing off !  If  in  the  course  of  an  afternoon  walk  we 
collected  a  party  of  twelve  for  dinner,  as  we  often  did, 
we  simply  informed  the  servants  of  the  fact  when  we 
came  in,  and  dinner  was  served  with  credit  to  our- 
selves and  without  a  grumble  from  anyone. 

None  of  us  knew  how  it  was  managed,  but  we 
imagined  it  to  be  an  understood  thing  between  all  the 
cooks  in  the  Legation  Compound,  that  whoever  had  a 


82  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

dinner  to  serve  should  have  a  prescriptive  right  to  the 
contents  of  all  the  larders.  If  to-day  we  borrowed  a 
couple  of  partridges,  to-morrow  we  lent  a  leg  of  mutton  ! 
The  matter  was  arranged  between  the  servants  and 
never  troubled  us.  Some  such  system  of  give-and- 
take  had  to  prevail  in  a  place  like  Peking,  where  there 
were  no  shops,  and  everything  except  live  stock  bought 
in  the  open  market  had  to  come  from  one  or  other 
of  the  big  European  stores. 

Our  houses  were  comfortable  enough  and  were 
run  on  English  lines.  I  had  some  funny  experiences 
with  my  Chinese  servants.  I  was  at  tea  once  with  a 
few  chosen  friends  gathered  together  for  Bridge 
when  the  door  opened  to  admit  Chang  San,  the  blue- 
gowned  butler,  who  with  a  very  grave  face  advanced 
and  stood  before  me. 

"  Must  send  for  daifoo  (doctor),  missy,"  he  said, 
"  belly  sick,  wantchee  medicine  !  " 

"  Oh !  Chang  San,"  I  ejaculated,  shocked  at  his 
intruding  upon  my  guests  with  this  allusion  to  a 
stomach  trouble,  apparently  contracted  since  lunch- 
time,  when  he  had  seemed  quite  well.  "Go  to  bed 
at  once.  I'll  send  daifoo  to  you,"  and  I  gently  pushed 
him  towards  the  door. 

But  he  held  his  ground.  "  My  belly  no  belong  sick," 
he  insisted.  "  Wall  belly  all  wrong  inside  !  "  And 
he  pointed  to  the  electric  bell,  which  I  then  realized 
was  out  of  order  and  wanted  re-charging ! 

The  Chinese  have  a  curious  trick  of  adding  a  particle 
to  the  end  of  every  word  in  English.  This  particle 
is  either  an  "  e  ",  as  in  the  case  of  the  word  bell,  which 
Chang  San  made  into  belly,  or  "  kin/'  We  had  a 
mafoo  (groom)  who  tacked  the  latter  on  to  every 
word  in  his  sentence.  He  would  talk  of  putting 


PEKING  83 

on  the  "  saddlekin  "  and  taking  out  the  "  ponykin  " 
for  a  "  canterkin." 

Nothing  disturbs  the  equanimity  of  a  Chinaman, 
and  he  is  equal  to  any  emergency.  We  were  at  dinner 
once  when  the  servants  came  in  and  gravely  informed 
us  that  Imperial  bearers  were  without  and  had  brought 
us  a  sturgeon  as  a  present  from  the  Empress-Dowager. 
The  idea  of  caviare  being  intimately  associated  in 
our  minds  with  the  word  sturgeon,  we  seized  our 
knives  and  plates  and  rushed  incontinently  from  the 
table  to  the  courtyard  to  secure  the  coveted  dainty, 
but  alas  !  we  found  to  our  disgust  that  the  bearers 
appreciated  caviare  as  much  as  we  did,  and  had  been 
careful  to  remove  it  before  handing  over  the  fish 
to  our  servants. 

After  that,  we  took  less  interest  in  our  sturgeon. 
Still,  something  had  to  be  done  about  housing  it.  It 
measured  over  six  feet  in  length  and  was  frozen  stiff, 
the  season  being  midwinter.  At  first  we  felt  embar- 
rassed, not  knowing  what  to  do  with  a  fish  too  big 
for  the  larder.  But  Chang  San  settled  the  difficulty 
for  us  by  producing  two  chairs  from  the  kitchen, 
on  which  he  established  the  monster  in  the  courtyard. 
There  it  remained  for  two  days,  till  little  by  little 
it  vanished,  taken  away  in  chunks  by  the  friends  who 
trooped  in  to  call  on  us  when  they  heard  of  our  wonder- 
ful windfall,  for  sturgeon  is  as  good  to  eat  as  salmon, 
and  it  was  very  seldom  we  got  a  taste  of  it  in  Peking. 

The  Chinese  are  good  cooks,  but  they  sometimes 
give  one  a  shock.  We  had  a  dinner-party  once, 
rather  a  special  dinner-party,  I  remember,  and  I  was 
anxious  that  all  should  go  right,  so  I  penetrated  to 
the  kitchen,  which  on  principle  I  seldom  visited,  to  see 
for  myself  how  Liang  was  progressing.  I  approached 


84  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  fire  and  lifted  the  lid  of  the  saucepan  from  which 
came  a  most  appetizing  odour  of  soup,  but  I  dropped 
it  with  a  clatter,  for,  to  my  horror,  floating  on  the 
top  was  a  large  rat. 

"  Liang  !  "  I  cried,  "  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  ' 
But  the  Cantonese  looked  at  me  reproachfully. 

"  Liang  wantchee  dinner  too !  "  he  protested. 
"  Missy  wantchee  soup  ;  Liang  wantchee  rat !  Rat 
belong  Chinaman  chow." 

Tears  stood  in  his  beady,  black  eyes  and  I  had  not 
the  heart  to  make  him  take  his  tit-bit  out  of  my  soup. 
The  only  alternative  was  to  suppress  that  course 
from  my  menu,  and  I  could  not  even  have  the  satis- 
faction of  telling  my  guests  why,  as  it  might  have 
predisposed  them  against  the  rest  of  the  dinner. 

Sir  Ernest  Satow  was  one  of  the  kindest  of  men. 
His  career  had  been  made  chiefly  in  the  Far  East, 
and  he  cared  for  his  Oriental  studies  and  his  old 
Japanese  manuscripts  far  more  than  he  did  for  enter- 
taining, which  formed  part  of  his  social  duties  as 
British  Minister. 

Being  a  bachelor  and  having  therefore  no  lady 
to  preside  over  his  establishment,  very  soon  after 
we  arrived  he  gave  me  carte  blanche  to  do  what  I 
liked  in  that  way  at  the  Legation.  He  was  very  open- 
handed,  which  made  things  easy. 

"  Do  what  you  please,"  he  used  to  say,  "  give  what 
dinners  and  dances  you  like  in  my  house ;  I  will  pre- 
side over  them  with  pleasure,  provided  I  am  allowed 
to  get  back  to  my  study  by  midnight !  " 

And  so  we  arranged  it.  Taking  him  at  his  word, 
many  were  the  invitations  I  sent  out  in  his  hospitable 
name.  He  used  to  give  weekly  dances,  and  on  those 
occasions  a  special  train  was  run  from  Tientsin  to 


PEKING  85 

enable  the  English  girls  in  that  town  to  have  their 
share  of  the  fun,  for  they  thought  nothing  of  a  six- 
hours'  journey  in  the  train  with  the  prospect  of  a 
dance  at  the  end  of  it. 

Sir  Robert  Hart,  the  Inspector-General  of  Chinese 
Customs,  also  did  much  to  liven  up  Peking.  He 
gave  dances  generally  on  the  night  after  Sir  Ernest's 
so  that  the  same  girls,  by  staying  over  the  night 
with  their  friends  in  Peking,  could  enjoy  both. 

Sir  Robert  Hart  was  a  great  "  character  "  and  a 
most  remarkable  man.  Though  married,  with  a 
large  family  living  in  London,  he  had  abandoned  his 
home  ties  and  lived  exclusively  in  Peking,  where  all 
his  interests  were.  When  we  knew  him  he  had  been 
resident  there  for  over  forty  years.  He  was  the 
organizer  and  chief  administrator  of  the  Chinese 
Customs,  over  which  he  had  been  appointed  Inspector- 
General  as  far  back  as  1861.  He  also  took  a  great 
hand  in  Chinese  politics  and,  being  absolutely  master 
of  their  language,  could  meet  the  officials  on  their 
own  ground. 

He  rendered  many  services  to  his  adopted  country. 
Thus,  after  the  Franco-Chinese  War  of  1882,  which 
degenerated  into  a  guerilla  warfare  lasting  till  1885, 
Sir  Robert,  on  behalf  of  the  Chinese  Government, 
successfully  carried  through  the  peace  negotiations 
with  the  French. 

When  all  had  been  arranged,  he  called  at  the  Tszungli 
Yamen  and,  gravely  addressing  the  assembled  Ministers, 
said  :  "  Nine  months  ago  you  authorized  me  to  open 

negotiations  for  peace  in  your  name,  and  now " 

"  The  baby  is  born  !  "  broke  in  one  of  the  Ministers 
before  he  could  proceed  any  farther.  He  used  to 
chuckle  as  he  told  me  that  yarn. 


86  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

At  our  dances  we  had,  of  course,  no  European 
band,  but  Sir  Robert,  who  was  passionately  fond  of 
music,  had  supplied  the  deficiency  by  training,  with 
years  of  infinite  patience,  a  Chinese  band  who  played 
European  music  on  European  instruments — a  great 
feat  when  one  reflects  that  their  own  music  has  only 
five  notes,  that  it  has  no  sharps,  flats,  or  naturals, 
and  that  the  scale  is  neither  major  nor  minor  but 
a  little  of  both ! 

We  had  arrived  in  Peking  shortly  after  the  signing 
of  the  peace  Protocol  between  the  Powers  and  China, 
allowing  the  Empress-Dowager  and  the  Emperor 
to  return  to  the  capital  from  the  exile  into  which 
they  had  been  forced  by  the  failure  of  the  Boxer 
Rising.  Indeed,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  pre- 
sent when,  for  the  first  time  after  her  return,  the 
Empress  gave  audience  to  the  ladies  of  the  corps 
diplomatique. 

There  are  few  more  arresting  figures  in  recent 
history  than  was  Tse  Hsi,  the  late  Empress-Dowager 
of  China,  who,  entering  the  Imperial  Palace  as  a  con- 
cubine of  a  former  Emperor,  became  the  despotic 
ruler  of  a  great  Empire.  It  may  be  imagined,  then, 
how  thrilled  I  was  when  the  time  came  to  penetrate 
the  veil  which  shrouded  from  ordinary  mortals  the 
mysteries  of  the  Chinese  Court. 

Before  the  approach  of  the  great  day  Mrs.  Conger, 
wife  of  the  American  Minister,  called  together  in 
her  capacity  of  "  Doyenne  "  all  the  ladies  of  the 
corps  diplomatique  who  were  privileged  to  attend 
the  Imperial  Audience,  and  put  us  through  a  sort  of 
dress  rehearsal  of  the  ceremonial  to  be  pursued. 
She  was  a  funny  old  lady,  a  Christian  Scientist,  spoken 
of  as  a  possible  successor  to  "  Mother  Eddy,"  and 


PEKING  87 

great  was  her  excitement  at  the  prospect  of  the  morrow. 
She  bade  us  all  curtsy  to  Her  Chinese  Majesty, 
and  strongly  recommended  that  we  should  all  wear 
white  embroidered  under-petticoats,  so  that,  in  the 
event  of  our  tripping  over  our  feet  in  the  performance 
of  these  curtsys,  no  undue  display  of  stockinged 
leg  should  offend  the  susceptibilities  of  the  surround- 
ing Chinese  dignitaries ! 

I  left  the  Legation  in  my  green  official  chair  with 
four  coolies  in  the  shafts,  two  before  and  two  behind, 
others  running  ahead  to  clear  the  way  for  "  my  Umpti- 
ness,"  for  this  was  the  ceremonial  etiquette  of  the 
Celestial  City.  The  chairs  of  all  the  other  ladies 
converged  with  mine  upon  one  of  the  chief  dragon- 
decorated  gateways  of  the  palace,  which  formed 
the  rendezvous  of  our  procession.  Here  our  official 
chairs  were  exchanged  for  Palace  chairs  upholstered 
in  red  satin,  and  in  these  we  were  quickly  carried 
by  Imperial  bearers  through  numberless  courtyards 
shaded  by  magnificent  cedars,  over  canals  spanned 
by  marble  bridges,  past  one-storied  buildings  roofed 
with  Imperial  yellow  tiles,  till  we  came  to  a  flight 
of  white  marble  steps,  at  the  top  of  which  a  gorgeous 
group  of  Mandarins,  Court  ladies  and  attendants 
waited  to  conduct  us  to  the  Royal  Presence. 

From  the  glare  of  the  blazing  midday  sun  we  passed 
straight  into  the  cool  atmosphere  and  subdued  light 
of  the  Throne  Room.  Exactly  opposite  to  us  as  we 
entered  sat  the  Empress-Dowager  on  her  throne. 

I  had  often  thought  of  Tse-Hsi — picturing  her  to 
myself,  now  as  urging  on  her  fiendish  soldiers  to  destroy 
the  "  foreign  devils  "  ;  again,  disguised  as  a  common 
peasant  woman  in  blue  cotton  coat  and  pigtail,  flying 
the  vengeance  of  those  same  "  devils  " ;  again  as  a 


88  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

sort  of  Buddha  sitting  on  the  floor  with  crossed  legs 
and  hands  folded  on  her  lap  receiving  the  homage  of 
her  worshipping  subjects.  But  never  had  I  pictured 
her  as  I  saw  her  that  day. 

She  sat  on  a  kind  of  Turkish  divan  covered  with 
figured  Chinese  silk  of  a  beautiful  yolk-of-egg  colour, 
her  feet  (which  were  of  normal  size,  she  being  a  Man- 
chu)  barely  touching  the  ground.  She  wore  dark 
trousers,  loose  at  the  ankle,  and  a  long  coat  of  diaphan- 
ous pale  blue  silk  covered  with  delicate  Chinese  embroi- 
dery in  a  design  of  vine  leaves  and  grapes.  Her  hair, 
according  to  the  Manchu  fashion,  was  parted  in  front 
and  brushed  smoothly  back  over  the  ears  to  the 
back  of  the  head,  where  it  was  caught  up  and  looped 
high  over  a  kind  of  paper-cutter  of  beautiful  green 
jade,  set,  like  an  Alsatian  bow,  crosswise  on  the 
summit  of  the  head.  The  ends  of  this  paper-cutter, 
which  projected  on  both  sides  over  the  ears,  were 
decorated  with  great  bunches  of  artificial  flowers, 
butterflies,  and  hanging  crimson  silk  tassels. 

As  she  was  a  widow,  her  cheeks  were  neither  painted 
nor  powdered.  Her  piercing  brown  eyes,  when  not 
looking  benignly  on  the  foreign  ladies  (she  seemed 
most  anxious  to  impress  us  with  the  friendliness  of 
her  feelings  towards  us,  though  she  would  willingly 
have  eaten  us  up  the  year  before !)  roved  inquiringly 
about  among  her  surroundings,  an  angry  gleam  appear- 
ing in  them  if  her  attendants  did  not  instantly  appre- 
ciate the  significance  of  an  order  or  even  of  a  gesture. 
Her  hands  were  long  and  tapering  and  prettily  shaped, 
though  disfigured  by  the  repulsive  Chinese  custom 
of  letting  one  or  two  of  the  nails  of  one  hand  grow  as 
long  as  careful  cultivation  would  induce  them  to 
become.  The  nails  of  two  fingers  of  the  right  hand 


PEKING  89 

were  protected  by  gold  shields,  which  fitted  to  the 
fingers  like  a  thimble  and  gradually  tapered  to  a 
point,  their  added  length  of  quite  four  inches  making 
her  hands  look  strangely  crab-like. 

To  the  left  of  the  Empress-Dowager  was  the  Emperor, 
seated  on  a  square  yellow-cushioned  stool  with  his 
legs  dangling  and  his  toes  turned  in.  His  real  name 
was  Tsai-Tien,  but  it  was  considered,  like  that  of 
Confucius,  too  sacred  to  be  spoken,  or  the  characters 
to  be  written  in  common  form.  He  was  therefore 
known  as  Kwang-Hsu,  or  "  The  Illustrious  Succession." 

He  sat  with  his  mouth  open,  and  his  glazed  eyes 
had  a  fixed  expression  in  them  which  I  was  after- 
wards told  was  due  to  his  opium-sodden  condition. 
He  was  kept  by  order  under  the  influence  of  the  drug, 
possibly  a  merciful  dispensation  in  the  case  of  one 
born  to  such  a  tragic  destiny.  His  attire  in  no  way 
differed  from  that  of  the  other  dignitaries  of  his  Court, 
except  that  in  his  case  the  embroidered  badges  on 
back,  chest,  and  shoulders  of  his  long  dark  silk  coat 
were  enclosed  in  a  circle  instead  of  in  a  square.  He 
was,  however,  entitled  to  the  undisputed  use  of  a 
five-clawed  dragon  by  way  of  ornament  in  these 
badges,  whereas  ordinary  mortals  had  to  be  content 
with  four-clawed  monsters.  A  peacock  feather 
secured  in  a  green  jade  holder  pointed  down  from 
the  back  of  his  Mandarin  hat,  which  was  decorated 
with  a  red  silk  button  in  the  centre  of  the  crown 
denoting  the  exalted  rank  of  the  wearer. 

No  notice  whatever  was  taken  of  him  during  the 
day's  proceedings,  except  that  the  officials  and  servants 
knelt  to  him,  and  made  nine  prostrations  when  they 
addressed  him,  nor  dared  they  raise  their  eyes  in 
so  doing  to  the  August  Countenance. 


90  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

When  the  Empress  moved  about  from  hall  to  hall 
of  the  Palace  the  Emperor  followed  her  without 
speaking,  a  picture  of  perfect  submission,  and  when 
she  halted  to  address  one  of  us,  or  to  rest,  he  always 
took  up  the  same  position  behind  and  to  the  left 
of  her.  All  assertions  as  to  his  having  been  the 
originator  in  Reform  movements  of  the  past  appeared 
to  me  ridiculous  in  face  of  his  evident  incapacity. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  fact,  so  plainly  written 
on  his  delicate  countenance,  that  his  case  "was  one 
of  arrested  development,  and  that  he  lived  in  com- 
plete subjection,  mental  and  physical,  to  the  tyrannical 
influences  about  him. 

Standing  with  the  other  ladies  in  a  circle  which 
surrounded  the  Empress-Dowager,  but  occupying 
no  more  prominent  position  than  they  did,  was  the 
young  Empress  Yehonala,  who,  unlike  her  mother- 
in-law,  was  highly  rouged  and  powdered,  and  had 
a  vivid  patch  of  red  upon  her  lower  lip.  The  Princess 
Imperial,  adopted  in  her  infancy  by  the  Empress- 
Dowager,  as  also  the  daughters  of  Prince  Ching, 
the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  were  likewise  present. 

A  group  of  coral-robed  attendants  were  told  off 
in  pairs  to  look  after  us,  and  wherever  we  moved 
they  supported  us  under  each  elbow,  being  accus- 
tomed, I  suppose,  to  the  Southern  Chinese  lady  of 
rank  whose  compressed  feet  make  unassisted  move- 
ment almost  impossible.  All  these  girls  seemed 
very  happy,  and  one  whom  I  questioned  as  to  what 
she  did  when  not  employed  in  her  Court  duties, 
answered,  "  We  laugh  and  play."  The  laughing 
good  humour  and  utter  absence  of  shyness  of  all  the 
ladies  about  the  Court  made  intercourse  with  them 
very  easy. 


PEKING  91 

After  we  had  all  been  presented  to  the  Empress- 
Dowager  she  rose,  telling  us  that  we  were  now  to 
be  conducted  through  the  Palace  to  luncheon  in  the 
banqueting  hall.  As  the  rooms  in  a  Chinese  palace 
are  separated  one  from  the  other  by  open  courts, 
we  made  our  tour  in  the  red  chairs,  the  Empress 
going  before  us  borne  by  twelve  attendants  in  a  yellow 
silk  carrying-chair,  a  thirteenth  holding  a  yellow 
silk  umbrella  over  the  Imperial  head.  In  each  apart- 
ment the  procession  paused  while  we  admired  the 
room  and  made  some  polite  remark  to  the  Empress 
through  the  woman  interpreter.  In  this  way  we 
came  to  the  Emperor's  room,  with  dais  and  gilded 
throne  on  one  side  and  an  elaborate  k'ang  or  bed- 
place  on  the  other.  (A  Chinese  bed  is  not  unlike  an 
oven,  as  it  consists  of  a  brick  platform  raised  from 
the  ground,  under  which  in  winter  a  fire  is  kept  burn- 
ing. The  sleeper  rests  comfortably  on  piled  cushions 
laid  on  the  platform  under  woollen  or  silk  coverings.) 
At  either  end  of  the  Emperor's  apartment  were  huge 
mirrors  framed  in  carved  black  wood,  but  this  room, 
carpetless  and  badly  lighted  by  paper-covered  windows 
placed  high  up  in  the  walls,  seemed  to  me  gloomy 
and  comfortless  in  the  extreme. 

The  Empress-Dowager's  room  was  more  cheerful. 
It  had  the  same  kind  of  bed-place  and  a  yellow  silk 
divan.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  a  huge  block 
of  dark  green  jade  elaborately  carved,  and  on  the 
walls  were  small  carved  Chinese  brackets  covered 
with  costly  bric-a-brac,  enough  to  make  the  collector's 
mouth  water.  I  never  saw  such  exquisite  china  nor 
such  beautifully  carved  pink  and  green  jade.  Round 
the  room,  tables  were  placed  covered  with  what  were 
evidently  presents  from  foreign  royalties.  They 


92  '-INDISCRETIONS' 

looked  positively  tawdry  in  their  Chinese  setting.  I 
don't  know  why  it  is  that  European  potentates  always 
show  such  a  preference  for  blue  Sevres  when  selecting 
a  present  for  an  Eastern  ruler.  Large  vases,  cande- 
labra, and  clocks  of  Sevres  china  and  groups  of  nude 
"  biscuit "  figures  appear  prominently  in  all  of  them. 

In  the  Empress's  collection  there  were  clocks  of 
every  description,  and  she  told  me  with  pride  that 
she  had  one  hundred-and-sixty  of  them.  They  were 
all  going,  I  noticed,  but  they  all  marked  a  different 
hour.  What  mattered  time  to  a  daughter  of  heaven  ! 

Arrived  at  length  in  the  banqueting-hall,  we  were 
met  by  the  most  curious  sight  of  all,  for  down  the 
middle  of  this  beautiful  apartment,  with  its  painted 
columns  and  dragon-ornamented  gallery,  stood  a  long, 
narrow  table  and  a  row  of  ordinary  hardwood  dining- 
chairs,  evidently  "  made  in  Germany."  A  white 
cloth  was  spread,  but  it  had  been  covered  with  shiny 
American  cloth,  black,  with  a  pattern  of  coloured 
flowers.  The  chairs,  which  had  evidently  been  speci- 
ally procured  for  our  comfort,  looked  terribly  out  of 
place  in  their  present  surroundings,  as  did  the  American- 
cloth  table  cover  !  The  centre  of  the  table  was  laden 
with  countless  tall  dishes  of  Chinese  dainties,  and 
before  each  place  were  set  knife,  spoon  and  fork  of 
inferior  metal,  besides  also  a  set  of  blackwood  silver- 
mounted  chopsticks.  To  each  of  us  also  was  given 
a  napkin  (evidently  hailing  from  Manchester)  of 
coarse  cotton,  mauve  in  colour  and  adorned  with 
squares.  Neither  more  nor  less  than  a  duster !  The 
fare  was  Chinese,  but  the  liquor  consisted  of  tepid 
beer  poured  into  wineglasses,  or  champagne  in  liqueur 
glasses  for  those  who  preferred  it.  Later  in  the  day 
we  were  given  the  napkins,  chopsticks,  and  the  dishes 


PEKING  93 

out  of  which  we  had  eaten,  as  souvenirs  of  the  occasion. 

We  were  now  invited  to  "  satisfy  our  hunger." 
The  Empress  herself  set  a  good  example  by  consum- 
ing several  bowls  of  rice  and  milk,  she  using  china  of 
the  Imperial  yellow,  while  ours  was  yellow  patterned 
with  green  and  black  dragons.  For  the  Empress 
to  eat  with  us  was  a  mark  of  special  favour,  for  as 
a  rule  she  performed  this  ceremony  only  in  private, 
and  did  not  sit  down  to  table  even  with  her  own 
Court  ladies. 

During  the  meal  the  Emperor  sat  as  usual  a  little 
behind  the  Empress.  No  food  was  offered  to  him, 
but  when  the  Empress  had  eaten  as  much  of  her 
rice  as  she  needed  she  passed  the  half-empty  bowl 
to  him  to  finish.  In  like  manner  she  gave  him  the 
remains  of  her  half -sucked  orange.  Perhaps  there 
was  some  idea  in  this  of  proving  to  him  that  the 
food  he  partook  of  had  not  been  poisoned.  None 
of  us,  needless  to  say,  ate  much  of  the  Chinese  fare, 
but  after  the  meal  we  all  smoked  cigarettes,  in  which 
we  were  joined  by  the  Emperor  and  Empress. 

The  next  time  I  saw  the  Empress  was  in  quite  an 
unofficial  way  at  a  place  called  Paoting  Fu,  seven 
hours  by  rail  from  Peking,  whither  we  had  gone  at 
the  invitation  of  Yuan  Shih  Kai  with  the  double 
object  of  visiting  the  university  college  established 
there  by  H.E.,  the  then  Viceroy  of  Chihli  (afterwards 
the  first  President  of  the  Chinese  Republic),  and  of 
witnessing  the  state  entry  into  the  city  of  the  Emperor, 
Empress-Dowager,  and  young  Empress,  who,  together 
with  all  the  Court,  were  returning  from  the  annual 
ceremony  of  worshipping  the  remains  of  departed 
Emperors  at  the  Western  Tombs.  The  Court  was 
to  spend  a  week  or  more  at  the  old  Imperial  Palace 


94  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

in  Paoting  Fu  before  returning  to  Peking.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  such  an  honour  had  been  conferred 
upon  the  city,  and  great  was  the  excitement  of  the 
crowds. 

The  procession  was  a  wonderful  sight  when,  after 
hours  of  waiting,  it  came  in  view  and  progressed 
towards  the  palace  between  the  lines  of  Yuan  Shih 
Kai's  black-turbaned  soldiers  in  their  neat  uniform 
of  dark  blue,  bordered  with  red.  The  first  personage 
to  appear  was  the  Emperor,  borne  swiftly  along  by 
seventy-two  bearers  in  his  yellow  chair,  and  lost 
to  sight  almost  before  his  passing  had  been  realized. 
Then  came  a  company  of  mounted  soldiers  with  drawn 
swords,  and  finally  the  Empress-Dowager  herself 
in  a  yellow  chair  similar  to  that  of  the  Emperor. 
As  she  came  in  view  those  guarding  the  line  fell  upon 
their  faces,  "  kotowing  "  with  their  foreheads  to  the 
ground,  so  that  we  who  were  standing  immediately 
behind  them  had  an  excellent  opportunity  of  seeing 
her.  The  next  to  pass  was  the  young  Empress,  whose 
relatively  inferior  dignity  did  not  entitle  her  to  a 
yellow  chair.  She  occupied  a  beautiful  Peking  cart 
covered  with  silk,  the  wheels  set  right  behind  the 
body  of  the  cart  to  mark  the  exalted  rank  of  the 
occupant.  The  fine  mule  between  the  shafts  was 
caparisoned  with  gold  filigree  harness  and  yellow  silk 
reins.  After  that  of  the  young  Empress  came  a  long 
string  of  other  carts  carrying  less  important  person- 
ages, the  rear  being  brought  up  by  luggage  wagons 
laden  with  bundles  wrapped  in  yellow  cloth  and  corded 
with  yellow  silk. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  the  Empress- 
Dowager  signified  her  wish  to  receive  me  in  audience 
at  the  Palace.  I  had  a  friend  with  me  who  had 


PEKING  95 

accompanied  me  from  Peking,  Flora  Russell,  daughter 
of  the  late  Lord  Arthur  Russell,  and  together  we 
set  out  on  this  curious  adventure.  Yuan  Shih  Kai 
sent  two  green  Sedan  chairs  (green  is  the  official 
colour  in  China)  and  an  escort  of  soldiers  to  convey 
us  to  the  Hsing  Kung,  or  travelling  lodge,  as  this 
particular  palace  was  called.  We  were  received  by 
several  dignitaries  of  high  degree  who  wore  their 
yellow  jackets  and  peacock  feathers,  a  mark  of  the 
great  importance  of  the  occasion.  After  a  short 
wait  we  were  told  that  the  Empress  was  ready  to  see 
us.  She  received  us  very  graciously,  and,  leaving 
her  throne,  conducted  us  to  another  apartment,  where 
she  gave  us  tea,  which  she  herself  sprinkled  with  pink 
and  white  almond  blossoms  taken  with  gold  sugar- 
tongs  from  a  bowl  of  green  jade.  The  lovely  little 
china  cups  from  which  we  drank  were  set  in  gold 
filigree  boat-shaped  saucers.  I  have  drunk  tea  in 
many  lands  with  hostesses  ofm  any  nationalities — for 
the  custom  of  tea-drinking  is  practically  universal — 
but  whether  in  Japan,  Constantinople,  or  Teheran, 
I  never  saw  a  prettier  tea  ceremony  than  that  to  which 
the  Empress  of  China  treated  us  that  day. 

She  was  in  an  extremely  gracious  mood,  and  took 
it  for  granted  that  I  had  journeyed  to  Paoting  Fu 
for  the  express  purpose  of  welcoming  her  on  her 
return  from  her  journey.  Naturally  I  did  not  unde- 
ceive her.  The  English-speaking  Chinese  interpreter 
whom  Yuan  Shih  Kai  had  sent  with  us  had  a  tiring 
time  fulfilling  his  arduous  duties,  for  as  often  as  Her 
Majesty  spoke  to  him  he  had  to  go  upon  his  knees 
to  listen,  rising  again  to  transmit  her  remarks  to  us. 
I  could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  the  poor  man  after 
an  hour  of  this  very  hard  exercise,  and  noticing  the 


96  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

perspiration  streaming  from  his  forehead  I  refrained 
from  several  questions  and  remarks  I  should  have 
liked  to  indulge  in. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  the  Empress-Dowager  took 
us  for  a  turn  in  the  garden.  She  leaned  upon  my 
arm,  laughing  at  the  comparative  difference  in  our 
heights,  for  she  barely  reached  my  shoulder.  I  was 
astonished  at  the  beauty  of  the  gardens,  where  Chinese 
ingenuity  seemed  to  have  reached  its  culminating 
point  in  the  wonderfully  artistic  use  made  of  existing 
features.  For  this  one  week's  visit  artificial  embel- 
lishments had  been  liberally  added  to  supplement 
Nature's  deficiencies.  I  noted  artificial  rookeries, 
stuffed  birds,  squirrels  and  monkeys  fixed  on  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  birds  of  rare  kinds  in  aviaries, 
stuffed  deer  drinking  at  the  water's  edge,  and  stuffed 
ducks  swimming  on  the  miniature  lake. 

After  drinking  tea  once  again  in  a  shaded  pavilion, 
we  took  leave  of  the  Empress  and  returned  to  Peking. 
By  her  orders  the  royal  train,  upholstered  in  pale 
blue  satin,  with  plate-glass  windows,  was  placed  at 
my  disposal  for  the  journey.  One  of  her  chief 
Ministers  accompanied  me  with  instructions  to  return 
at  once  and  report  my  safe  arrival ! 

Our  coming  back  in  such  state  caused  considerable 
sensation  among  the  diplomatists,  who  were  always 
on  the  look-out  to  see  that  one  country  did  not  steal 
a  march  on  the  other  in  the  matter  of  Imperial  favours. 
As  luck  would  have  it,  the  German  Minister  chanced 
to  meet  me  as  I  passed  through  the  Water  Gate 
escorted  by  Imperial  servants  laden  with  presents 
(it  was  the  invariable  custom  of  the  Chinese  Court 
so  to  speed  the  parting  guest),  and  not  knowing  the 
real  object  of  iny  visit  to  Paoting  Fu,  he  immediately 


TRANSLATION 


'77/e  Superintendent  of  Northern  Trade, 
Yuan  Shih  K'ai,  has  the  honour  to  present 
this  small  photograph  tc  the  wife  of  the 
British  Amhasmdor,  1904,  the  15th  day 
of  the  2nd  moon  —  -written  at  1"ients'in 
Takn  "Pel  Yang  Chi"  Office 


PEKING  97 

concluded  that  I  had  been  sent  there  by  Walter  on 
some  secret  mission.  A  wild  telegram  was  dispatched 
from  Peking  to  Berlin  that  night,  as  I  was  privately 
informed  by  one  of  the  younger  diplomatists  on  his 
staff  who  knew  how  much  I  should  be  amused. 

Several  times  after  that  I  visited  the  Empress 
at  the  Summer  Palace,  informally  and  by  myself. 
(It  must  be  understood  that  I  always  had  an  inter- 
preter with  me.)  Thus  I  was  present  when  for  the 
first  time  public  opinion  forced  her  to  permit  two 
of  her  Ladies-in- Waiting  to  appear  before  her  in 
European  dress.  I  could  see  how  nervous  and  agitated 
she  was  before  they  came  in,  at  this  departure  from 
precedent,  and  it  was  interesting  to  watch  her 
demeanour  when  presently  they  appeared.  They  were 
dressed  alike  in  crimson  broche  velvet,  with  European 
shoes  on  their  tiny  feet.  They  looked  most  awkward 
as  they  curtsied  in  place  of  kotowing.  The  Empress 
was  cold  at  first,  but  curiosity  overcoming  her  annoy- 
ance and  no  foreigner  besides  myself  being  present, 
she  gradually  softened  towards  them.  Before  very 
long  she  was  seated  on  a  divan  between  them  trying 
a  Parisian  shoe  on  the  Imperial  foot. 

On  another  occasion  we  were  in  her  sleeping  apart- 
ment and  she  invited  me  to  sit  on  the  k'ang  (bed) 
beside  her.  I  climbed  up,  and,  crossing  my  legs  in 
imitation  of  her  own  pose,  sat  there  between  the 
Empress  and  the  Emperor.  She  played  with  my  muff, 
and  her  inquiry  as  to  why  I  was  allowed  to  wear  ermine 
when  I  was  not  a  royal  personage  led  to  a  talk  upon  the 
rights  of  the  subjects  in  England,  which  very  much  sur- 
prised her.  She  told  me  that  in  China  even  the  change 
from  winter  to  summer  hats  was  made  by  Royal  procla- 
mation on  a  date  governed  by  the  state  of  the  weather. 


98  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

She  was  very  curious  about  my  foreign  clothes,  and 
insisted  on  turning  up  my  skirts  to  see  what  I  wore 
underneath,  showing  me  in  turn  that  she  herself  wore 
a  succession  of  coats,  seven  in  number,  all  shaped 
exactly  alike,  but  the  inner  ones  less  elaborately 
embroidered.  The  innermost  one  of  all  was  of  fine 
unbleached  linen  edged  with  bands  of  black  satin. 

She  told  me  how  nervous  she  was  at  night,  and 
that  she  always  had  two  slave-girls  sleeping  on  the 
floor  by  her  k'ang  whilst  others  kept  watch  outside  her 
door.  It  was  a  strange  experience  to  sit  there  talking 
in  this  simple  way  to  the  Empress  of  China,  and 
stranger  still  to  realize  that  this  friendly  little  woman 
with  the  brown  face  of  a  kindly  Italian  peasant  was 
the  mysterious  and  powerful  autocrat  who  ruled  the 
destinies  of  the  largest  Empire  in  the  world,  the  tyrant 
who  had  deliberately  debased  and  degraded  the  un- 
fortunate Emperor  sitting  beside  her,  the  fiend  who 
had  egged  on  the  Boxers  to  nameless  outrages  ! 

Was  she  really  responsible  for  all  this,  or  was  she 
only  a  tool  in  the  compelling  hand  of  Destiny  ? 

I  had  an  interesting  experience,  to  which  I  look 
back  with  pleasure,  when,  late  in  the  autumn  of  1903, 
I  went  with  a  friend,  at  the  invitation  of  Yuan  Shih 
Kai,  at  that  time  Viceroy  of  Chihli,  to  Paoting  Fu, 
to  revisit  the  College  or  University  he  had  established 
there  in  an  attempt  to  impart  a  Western  education 
on  Western  university  lines  to  Chinese  students. 
The  college  was  managed  by  an  American  called 
Dr.  Tenney,  a  charming  and  cultured  man. 

The  Viceroy  entertained  us  royally,  sending  six 
cooks  and  four  servants  for  our  use.  Champagne 
flowed  at  every  meal.  He  was  a  very  interesting 


PEKING  99 

man.  I  wrote  at  the  time  to  a  friend  at  home: 
"  Yuan  Shih  Kai  is  the  Chinaman  of  the  future, 
and  on  his  success  or  failure  to  maintain  himself  in  his 
present  exalted  and  powerful  position  depends  much 
of  the  future  of  China.  He  stands  almost  alone 
for  reform,  progress  and  education.  He  is  honest 
in  money  matters,  a  thing  almost  unknown  in  Chinese 
public  life.  But  his  enemies  are  many  and  powerful. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  he  may  prevail  against  them.  Watch 
his  career  when  his  name  occurs,  as  it  must,  in  the 
papers.  The  present  time  in  China  is  intensely 
interesting,  and  her  destiny  is  rapidly  shaping  itself." 
(An  estimate  of  Yuan  which  I  think  it  worth  while 
to  recall  in  view  of  the  fact  that  on  the  death  of  the 
Empress-Dowager  in  1908  he  proclaimed  a  Republic 
and  became  its  first  President.) 

Sir  Ernest  Satow  went  home  on  leave  after  we  had 
been  in  Peking  about  a  year,  and  Walter  remained 
"  in  charge "  of  the  Legation.  From  that  time 
till  we  left  Peking,  all  the  social  duties  fell  upon  me. 
As  men  were  not  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
Empress-Dowager,  except  once  a  year,  when  they 
were  received  in  solemn  audience,  I  had  all  "  the 
fun  of  the  fay  re  "  in  that  quarter  also. 

After  the  departure  of  Sir  Ernest  I  went  even  more 
often  to  the  Palace.  My  visits,  however,  used  to  cost 
me  rather  dear,  as  everything  of  mine  which  the 
Empress  admired  I  felt  more  or  less  bound  to  give 
her.  In  this  way  she  became  possessed  of  a  beautiful 
lace  fan,  which  on  one  occasion  I  carried ;  also  of 
a  cigarette  case  which  attracted  her  very  much.  But 
in  return  she  gave  me  lovely  things,  among  others 
a  fan  which  she  painted  for  me  and  further  adorned 
by  a  dedicatory  poem  to  myself  which  she  composed 


ioo  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

and  signed.  She  also  gave  me  her  own  chopsticks 
of  silver-mounted  blackwood,  and  a  set  of  the  Imperial 
yellow  dishes  which  she  used  for  her  meals.  This  was 
a  unique  present,  as  Chinese  Court  etiquette  prescribes 
that  when  a  Sovereign  dies  the  whole  of  his  rice  and 
other  bowls  adorned  with  the  royal  cypher  shall  be 
broken,  new  ones  being  made  for  the  new  Emperor. 

Alas !  all  these  interesting  souvenirs  were  burnt 
in  the  fire  at  Constantinople,  which  in  1905  destroyed 
not  only  our  house,  but  also  the  whole  of  our  varied 
collection  of  curios  from  many  lands. 

One  day,  the  old  Empress  told  me  that  she  would 
like  to  try  some  of  our  European  dainties.  So  I  set 
my  cook  to  work  to  make  her  a  real  big  plum  cake.  I 
chose  a  recipe  with  lots  of  raisins  and  sultanas  in  it, 
and  decorated  the  finished  product  with  a  wonderful 
fortification  in  pink  and  white  sugar. 

By  the  time  it  was  finished  it  was  a  culinary  triumph, 
and  I  sent  it  to  the  Palace  by  bearer,  with  a  suitable 
Chinese  letter,  offering  it  to  Her  Majesty.  Apparently 
she  enjoyed  it,  for  next  day  she  sent  me  in  return 
a  fearsome  collection  of  Chinese  dainties  set  out  on 
lovely  green  jade  dishes. 

After  that  we  became  increasingly  friendly.  She 
complained  to  me,  at  one  of  the  audiences  which 
she  gave ,  me,  of  a  very  bad  cough,  which  troubled 
her  constantly  and  prevented  her  sleeping.  I  told 
her  of  the  great  English  daifoo  (doctor)  we  had  at 
the  Legation,  and  of  the  wonderful  cures  he  had  effected 
of  just  such  coughs  !  I  promised  to  send  her  some  of 
his  medicine. 

On  my  return  to  the  Legation  I  explained  to  the 
doctor  the  nature  of  the  royal  cough,  which  I  felt 
convinced  was  due  entirely  to  over-smoking,  and  I 


PEKING  101 

told  him  he  absolutely  must  give  me  something 
which  would  effect  a  complete,  even  though  temporary 
cure. 

So  he  made  up  a  wonderful  mixture,  in  which,  I 
think,  such  harmless  ingredients  figured  as  glycerine 
and  a  little  opium,  and  we  put  it  into  a  bright  blue 
glass  bottle,  fixed  a  very  smart  label  to  it,  wrapped 
it  up  in  many  fine  wrappings  and  sent  it  off  again 
by  bearer,  with  a  suitable  complimentary  epistle. 

A  few  days  later,  Her  Majesty  sent  for  me  again 
and  expressed  herself  as  highly  delighted  with  the 
English  doctor's  medicine.  She  received  me  on  that 
occasion  in  the  garden  of  the  Summer  Palace,  and 
there  I  was  witness  of  an  extraordinary  gift  she 
possessed,  which  I  have,  so  far,  never  seen  mentioned 
in  print.  I  allude  to  her  gift  of  taming  birds. 

On  this  occasion  I  saw  her  hold  out  a  twig  and 
softly  whistle  to  a  bird  which  flew  down  from  a  tree 
and  settled  on  the  twig.  I  don't  know  whether  this 
particular  bird  was  a  tame  one  or  whether  the  Empress 
could  attract  any  little  feathered  songster  by  the 
magnetic  power  she  possessed  over  them,  but  her 
gift  was  recognized  and  spoken  of  as  a  fact  by  her 
entourage.1 

1  Since  writing  these  lines  I  have  received  a  letter  from  a  corre- 
spondent in  Peking  who  relates  the  following  curious  experience  of 
his  which  happened  in  Peking  in  1908,  and  seems  to  suggest  that 
this  gift  of  bird-taming  was  not  peculiar  to  the  Empress,  but  was 
shared  by  some  of  her  subjects  who  extended  it  even  to  insects.  I 
quote  from  his  letter  : 

"  It  was  one  afternoon  when  I  was  out  alone  in  the  Native  City 
(i.e.  outside  the  Chien-Men  gate  of  Peking)  I  was  looking  out 
for  the  possible  purchase  of  wooden  '  gods '  which  I  collect,  and 
inquiries  had  led  me  to  a  Temple  which  was  partly  disused  and 
turned  into  an  incense  factory.  For  this  reason  all  the  '  gods  ' 
had  been  piled  up  in  one  small  room.  I  inquired  for  the  head- 


102  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

I  cultivated  the  "  Old  Buddha's  "  liking  for  me, 
and  in  time  became  "  Prime  Favourite  "  among  the 
ladies  of  the  corps  diplomatique,  which  excited  some 
jealousy. 

In  the  interest  of  diplomatic  peace  my  husband 
insisted  at  last  that  I  should  confine  myself  to  the 
more  usual  forms  of  intercourse  with  her,  and  so  I 
had  to  give  up  the  improving  of  an  acquaintance 
which  had  promised  to  become  increasingly  memorable. 

In  the  course  of  our  stay  in  Peking  I  visited  many 
Chinese  ladies,  the  wives  of  the  various  statesmen 
with  whom  my  husband  carried  on  official  business, 
for  I  liked  to  see  them  in  their  own  homes. 

I  always  found  them  very  hospitable  and  apparently 
pleased  to  see  me,  though  our  intercourse  was  neces- 
sarily of  a  limited  nature,  and  consisted  chiefly  of 
admiring  and  fingering  each  other's  clothes !  My 
gloves  in  particular  were  a  never-failing  source  of 
amusement  to  them — there  were  no  such  things  in 
China. 

Sometimes  the  master  of  the  house  joined  us,  and 
himself  did  the  honours  of  his  home  and  wives.  On 
these  *  occasions  they  would  stand  respectfully  round 
while  we  sat  and  talked. 

The  ceremonial  form  of  Chinese  conversation 
always  amused  me.  It  abounded  in  flowery  compli- 

priest  and  was  introduced  to  a  young  man  in  the  usual  garb  of  a 
Buddhist  with  shaven  head.  We  talked  for  some  time  in  the  little 
court-yard  garden,  when  suddenly  he  lifted  his  arms  up  and  held 
them  out  Y  fashion.  Quite  near  were  two  white  butterflies  hover- 
ing. After  a  few  seconds  the  two  butterflies  settled  on  his  finger- 
tips !  I  thought  this  must  be  accidental,  but  when  he  had  waved 
them  off  and  repeated  the  action  time  after  time  I  was  dumb- 
founded. The  priest  refused  to  give  me  any  explanation  of  his 
singular  powers." 


PEKING  103 

ments  and  quaint  self-depreciatory  remarks,  as  shown 
by  the  following  questions  and  answers  which  invariably 
passed  between  us,  through  the  intermediary,  of 
course,  of  the  interpreter : 

I:  "Distinguished  and  aged  Wu,  what  is  your 
honourable  age  ?  ' 

He :  "  Alas,  honourable  lady,  I  have  wasted  fifty 
years !  " 

/ :  "  How  many  worthy  young  gentleman  sons 
have  you  ?  ' 

He:  " My  Fate  is  beggarly ;  I  have  but  one  little 
bug." 

/  :    "  How  is  Your  Excellency's  favoured  wife  ?  " 

He :  "  Thank  you,  madam !  The  foolish  one  of 
the  family  is  well." 

When  alluding  to  himself  in  conversation,  though 
it  may  go  against  the  grain,  Chinese  ideas  of  polite- 
ness require  that  a  man  make  use  of  such  expressions 
as  the  above,  and  speaking  of  his  family,  he  is  bound 
to  qualify  them  as  "little,"  "mean,"  "stupid," 
and  "cheap."  Rather  hard  on  the  poor  family! 
(Curiously  enough,  in  the  same  way  in  Persia,  the 
most  exalted  personage,  in  conversation  with  another, 
will  always  allude  to  himself  as  "  Bandeh  " — slave.) 

Prince  Chu'un  was  the  late  Emperor's  brother. 
After  the  Boxer  troubles  he  was  designated,  in  the 
Peace  Protocol  between  the  Plenipotentiaries  of  Foreign 
Powers  and  China,  to  go  on  an  expiatory  mission 
to  Berlin  to  beg  forgiveness  for  the  murder  of  Baron 
von  Kettler,  who  was  shot  in  his  official  "  chair  " 
when  on  his  way  in  uniform  to  the  Tszungli  Yamen 
(Chinese  Foreign  Office). 

A  memorial  arch  was  later  erected  in  Peking  to  the 
memory  of  the  deceased  diplomatist,  and  an  inscription 


104  '  INDISCRETIONS  * 

was  engraved  upon  it  in  Latin,  German  and  Chinese, 
stating  the  treacherous  circumstances  under  which 
he  had  met  his  death. 

Soon  after  we  arrived  in  Peking  the  day  was  fixed 
for  unveiling  this  memorial,  and  by  way  of  punishment 
Prince  Chu'un  was  again  chosen,  as  the  prince  nearest 
to  the  throne,  to  perform  the  humiliating  ceremony  of 
pouring  libations  over  it  and  kotowing  before  it  in 
the  name  of  the  Chinese  Government. 

He  "  saved  his  face,"  however,  in  a  masterly  way, 
by  performing  his  duty  in  so  slipshod  and  careless  a 
manner  that  the  ceremony  was  robbed  of  all  dignity 
and  impressiveness. 

No  arrangements  had  been  made  by  the  Chinese 
authorities  for  the  accommodation  of  the  various 
Foreign  Ministers  and  their  staffs,  so  that  to  approach 
the  monument  we  all  had  to  thread  our  way  through 
a  hostile  and  dirty  Chinese  crowd. 

Whether  intentionally  or  not,  Prince  Chu'un 's  ful- 
filment of  his  penance  turned  out  to  be  rather  an 
added  insult  than  an  atonement  for  a  crime. 

The  summer  months,  which  were  intolerably  hot  in 
Peking,  we  used  to  spend  travelling  on  horseback 
in  the  Northern  Provinces  or  vegetating  in  one  of  the 
delightful  little  Chinese  yamens  attached  to  the 
temples  which  the  priests  were  sometimes  persuaded 
to  let  for  the  season  to  foreign  diplomats. 

Thus  we  idled  away  one  summer  in  the  courts  of 
the  Temple  of  Sweet  Smells,  which  we  had  converted 
to  our  use  by  the  addition  of  a  few  sticks  of  furniture, 
the  ubiquitous  mosquito  nets,  and  our  kitchen  pots 
and  pans  brought  up  in  carts  from  the  Legation. 

Our  quarters  were  certainly  not  luxurious,  but  they 
had  the  merit  of  being  extremely  picturesque.  Our 


TUNG   FU-HSIANG 
The  Leader  of  the  Boxers  in  igoo 


PEKING  105 

Chinese  servants  did  wonders  with  the  poor  resources 
at  hand.  The  chef  cooked  on  a  mud  stove  with  three 
holes  in  it,  and  not  a  bit  of  iron  in  its  composition. 
He  never  complained,  and  I  often  wished  some  of  our 
fastidious  English  cooks  could  have  tried  their  hands 
at  producing  a  dinner  on  his  range. 

From  a  packet  of  letters  addressed  to  my  mother 
from  China,  which  after  her  death  I  found  put  aside 
by  her  loving  hands,  I  take  the  following  description 
of  this  picturesque  place : 

"  I  wish  you  could  change  places  with  me  for  a 
moment  and  see  the  prospect  stretched  out  before 
me ;  I  am  watching  the  changing  lights  on  the 
distant  hills.  They  remind  me  in  some  ways  of  the 
Alban  Hills,  and  really  the  two  landscapes  have  much 
in  common. 

"  At  a  distance  the  Chinese  labourer  in  the  field 
might  easily  be  mistaken  in  his  blue  gown  for  an 
Italian  peasant.  This  country  is  cultivated  for  miles 
all  round,  and  as  our  temple  is  perched  on  the  crown 
of  a  hill  we  overlook  great  stretches  of  it.  When 
Walter  rides  off  to  his  daily  work  in  Peking  and,  as 
often  happens,  leaves  me  to  spend  a  restful  day  by 
myself,  I  spend  much  time  watching  my  poor,  patient 
neighbours  at  their  work. 

"  The  first  thing  that  strikes  one  is  that  the  whole 
world  is  kin  !  I  see  Chinese  children  playing  just  the 
same  games  as  our  little  street  urchins  play,  rolling 
in  the  dust  or  making  mud-pies,  according  to  the 
weather,  chasing  each  other  and  chucking  coins 
in  the  traditional  way,  all  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  same  laughter  and  shouting,  and  interrupted 
by  the  same  disputes,  ending  in  the  same  tears,  fol- 
lowed by  the  same  punishments. 


106  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

"  Such  a  sad  little  story  came  to  my  knowledge  the 
other  day.  From  my  usual  post  on  the  verandah  I 
saw  a  funeral  procession  wending  its  slow  way  through 
the  fields  to  a  little  burial-place  close  by.  I  asked 
the  '  boy '  (Chinese  manservant)  who  was  being 
buried,  and  he  told  me  it  was  a  little  girl  of  eleven 
years  of  age  who  had  been  stolen  by  a  neighbour 
and  secretly  taken  to  Peking  to  be  sold  as  a 
slave. 

"  But  people  were  too  prudent  to  buy  a  girl  who 
evidently  was  not  his  and  of  whom  he  could  give 
no  good  account ;  so,  after  days  of  wandering  about 
with  her  and  finding  at  last  that  he  could  not  get 
her  off  his  hands,  not  daring  either  to  return  with 
her  to  the  village  whence  he  had  stolen  her,  he 
murdered  her  by  throwing  her  down  a  well. 

"Her  body  was  not  found  till  days  after,  when 
the  man  had  coolly  returned  to  live  in  his  cabin  near 
her  father's.  The  crime,  however,  was  brought  home 
to  him,  and  I  hope  he  suffered  for  it. 

"  Selling  girls  as  slaves  is  not  at  all  an  uncommon 
thing  here.  They  are  bought  as  servants  and  domestic 
drudges.  In  many  cases  they  are  well  treated,  and 
if  they  give  satisfaction,  are  often  selected  as  con- 
cubines for  the  sons  of  the  house.  I  have  seen  several 
in  the  houses  of  Chinese  ladies  where  I  have  visited, 
and  they  didn't  strike  me  as  looking  more  unhappy 
than  their  more  fortunate  sisters." 

After  months  of  brazen  sunshine,  that  summer 
came  to  a  sudden  end,  and  torrential  rain  drove  us 
from  our  temple.  For  days  and  nights  on  end  the 
heavens  discharged  their  floods.  I  realized  then 
that  I  had  never  seen  real  rain  before.  For  it  didn't 
fall  as  at  home,  in  gentle,  refreshing  showers,  but 


PEKING  107 

pelted  in  sheets  and  with  a  noise  like  the  rattle  of 
artillery,  so  that  one  had  to  raise  one's  voice  to  make 
oneself  heard  above  it. 

And  having  before  suffered  from  parched  and 
sun-dried  skin  and  warped  furniture,  one  was  sud- 
denly afflicted  with  a  penetrating  moisture  that 
made  one's  very  boots  mildewed  in  a  night  and  swelled 
the  drawers  of  tables  and  chests  so  that  they  would 
neither  open  nor  shut. 

But  the  Emperor  had  been  in  State  to  the  Temple 
of  Heaven  to  pray  for  this  rain,  so  doubtless  all  good 
Chinamen  were  satisfied  at  this  answer  to  his  prayer. 
Anyhow,  we  were  not  long  in  packing  up  our  few 
things  and  returning  to  Peking. 

The  funeral  of  Li-Hung-Chang  1  took  place  while 
we  were  in  Peking  nearly  two  years  after  his  death, 
and  by  a  curious  coincidence  we  had  a  very  intimate 
view  of  it.  We  were  riding  one  day,  Walter  and  I, 
in  rather  a  remote  part  of  Peking,  when  in  passing 
a  large  Yamen  we  heard  the  most  appalling  noises 
of  sobbing  and  crying. 

We  inquired  of  the  mafoo  (groom)  riding  behind  us 
what  this  might  mean,  and  he  gave  us  the  astounding 

1  That  eminent  Chinese  statesman  was  born  in  1823,  a  century 
ago.  From  his  earliest  youth  he  showed  marked  ability,  and  his 
undoubted  qualities  both  as  a  soldier  and  statesman  led  him  step 
by  step  to  the  highest  positions  in  his  country.  In  1896  he  came  to 
Europe  to  represent  his  Imperial  Mistress  at  the  coronation  of  the 
Czar.  Later  he  visited  Germany,  Belgium,  France,  England  and 
the  United  States,  where  he  caused  the  greatest  sensation  by 
appearing  in  the  streets  in  the  striking  national  dress  of  a  mandarin 
of  the  highest  degree. 

He  wore  the  yellow  jacket  and  peacock  feather  which  since  have 
become  so  familiar  to  us  in  "  Chu  Chin  Chow."  He  died  in  1901 
after  imprudently  partaking  of  a  large  quantity  of  dough  cakes,  of 
which  Chinese  dainty  he  was  extremely  fond. 


io8  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

answer  that  within  that  house  the  funeral  party 
of  the  famous  Chinese  statesman  was  in  progress. 

I  was  seized  with  an  irresistible  desire  to  witness 
so  strange  a  sight,  and  Walter,  yielding  to  my  entreaty, 
sent  in  a  message  to  say  that  the  English  Ur-Chinchai 
(Second  Envoy)  and  his  wife  had  come  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  dead. 

In  China  people  are  not  buried  when  they  die,  but 
have  to  wait  for  an  auspicious  day  determined  upon 
after  much  searching  of  mind  by  certain  astrologers 
called  in  by  the  family.  Thus  it  happened  that, 
although  Li-Hung-Chang  had  died  in  November, 
1901,  he  could  not  be  buried  till  May,  1903. 

We  were  received  by  the  chief  mourner,  his  son, 
who  appeared  to  be  in  a  state  of  abject  grief.  He 
was  (as  custom  prescribed)  unshaven  and  unwashed, 
and  wore  a  most  unbecoming,  ill-fitting  and  dirty 
garment  of  sackcloth. 

Li's  coffin  was  concealed  from  the  public  gaze  behind 
a  curtain  at  the  back  of  an  altar  upon  which  were  set 
out  a  most  beautiful  set  of  Ming  Cloisonne  vases. 
Incense  was  burning  on  this  altar,  which  was  draped 
in  white,  as  was  the  whole  of  the  funeral  chamber. 

The  four  chief  mourners,  clothed  in  white,  were 
ranged  on  either  side  of  this  altar,  in  front  of  which 
were  placed  three  cushions.  Two  of  them  were 
uncovered,  but  a  silken  wrapper  was  thrown  over  the 
centre  one,  which  was  removed  when  a  specially 
great  mandarin  came  to  "  kotow,"  which  he  did  first 
to  the  invisible  coffin  and  afterwards  to  each  of  the 
watching  mourners,  who  returned  the  salute  in  custo- 
mary Chinese  fashion  by  raising  their  joined  hands 
to  their  foreheads,  with  which  they  afterwards  touched 
the  floor. 


PEKING  109 

On  leaving  the  "  presence  "  (we  shook  hands  with 
the  chief  mourners),  we  were  conducted  through 
an  outer  hall  draped  in  white,  the  light  of  the  win- 
dows being  subdued,  and  here  tea  and  sweetmeats 
were  handed  about  by  retainers.  At  the  outer  door 
stood  two  sentries,  who  presented  arms  as  we  passed 
out. 

In  the  court-yard  were  arranged  a  whole  menagerie 
of  weird  cardboard  beasts,  more  than  life-size,  whose 
coats  and  plumage  were  represented  by  dried  fir- 
twigs  stuck  on — I  noticed  an  immense  and  most 
comically-shaped  "  Pekingese  "  dog  among  others. 

There  were  also  a  regiment  of  life-sized  horses, 
constructed  on  light  bamboo  frames  covered  with 
paper,  and  coloured  to  imitate  life.  Each  one  was 
mounted  by  a  cardboard  Chinaman  in  correct  official 
dress,  with  hat,  boots  and  pigtail  complete.  These 
stuffed  cavaliers,  in  their  coloured  paper  garments, 
appeared  so  lifelike  at  a  distance,  as  almost  to  deceive 
one. 

Looked  at  closely,  however,  it  was  impossible 
not  to  laugh  at  the  fixed  expressions  of  man  and 
beast.  The  comic  side  of  them  was  still  further 
accentuated  when  presently  they  were  bodily  hoisted 
up  and  carried  away,  topsy-turvy,  with  the  horses' 
legs  sticking  in  the  air,  to  the  place  of  their  execution, 
for  all  were  burnt  in  the  evening  in  order  that  the 
deceased  statesman  might  have  the  use  of  them  in 
the  spirit  world  to  which  he  was  supposed  to  have 
retired. 

In  the  same  way  were  sent  after  him  the  effigies  of 
his  servants,  Peking  carts,  family  shrines,  official 
chairs,  and  wives. 

On   the   following   morning,  we  saw   the    funeral 


no  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

procession  start  through  the  streets  of  Peking  on  its 
last  long  journey  to  the  province  of  An  Hui,  where 
Li-Hung-Chang  was  to  be  finally  laid  to  rest  in  the 
family  tomb,  for  it  is  customary  in  China  to  return 
at  the  last  to  the  place  where  one  first  saw  the  light. 

The  streets  were  lined  with  troops  standing  shoulder 
to  shoulder.  The  cort&ge  consisted  of  life-sized  card- 
board representations  of  horsemen,  animals,  carriages 
and  servants  similar  to  those  burnt  on  the  previous 
night,  carried  aloft  on  men's  shoulders. 

Then  came  numberless  coolies  carrying  red  umbrellas 
opened,  and  red  signboards,  on  which  were  set  out  in 
great  gold  characters  the  names  and  virtues  of  the 
departed. 

After  these  appeared  the  chief  mourner,  walking 
alone  under  a  white  canopy  supported  by  eight  men. 
Immediately  behind  him  clustered  a  white  group 
of  secondary  mourners,  and  behind  these  again  were 
the  wives  and  female  relations  peeping  between  the 
blinds  of  the  white  Sedan  chairs  in  which  they  were 
hidden. 

At  last  came  the  funeral-car  itself,  huge  and  gor- 
geous, an  immense  catafalque  covered  with  red  and 
gold  trappings  and  carried  upon  the  shoulders  of  no 
fewer  than  48  white-clad  bearers. 

The  bier  was  followed  by  live  chargers  led  by  grooms, 
and  then  came  a  multitude  of  retainers  dressed  most 
quaintly  in  apple-green  coats  studded  with  white 
spots  as  large  as  half-crowns.  The  procession  was 
closed  by  a  number  of  Peking  carts  and  Sedan  chairs 
all  draped  in  white. 

Dotted  along  the  whole  line  of  the  straggling  pro- 
cession were  musicians  and  hired  mourners,  who 
played  doleful  notes  on  discordant  wind  instruments, 


PEKING  in 

hammered  upon  brass  gongs,  or  drew  the  weirdest 
boo-hoos  from  huge,  sobbing  pumps  shaped  like 
gigantic  garden  syringes.  Largesse,  in  the  shape 
of  cardboard  coins  of  gold  and  silver,  was  distributed 
along  the  whole  route. 

And  all  the  time  the  dust  flew  in  clouds  and  the 
sun  beat  fiercely  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  gaping 
crowds,  while  the  smell  of  Peking  filled  the  nostrils, 
that  awful  smell  of  combined  dirt  and  opium  ! 

I  went  to  Tokio  one  summer  to  stay  at  the  Legation 
with  Sir  Claude  and  Lady  Macdonald.  There  was 
a  funny  ending  to  my  trip,  for  I  was  under  orders 
from  Walter  to  be  back  in  Peking  on  a  certain 
date,  as  we  had  accepted  an  invitation  from  the 
United  States  Legation  to  a  dinner  to  be  given  in 
honour  of  "  Fighting  Bob  Evans,"  the  well-known 
American  admiral,  who  was  in  Chinese  waters  with 
a  squadron. 

I  decided  to  sail  in  a  Japanese  ship.  "  You'll  miss 
your  dinner,"  warned  Sir  Claude.  "  I  bet  you  five 
pounds  I  don't,"  I  answered,  laughing.  "  Done 
with  you,"  said  Sir  Claude.  "  I'll  take  on  the  bet." 

Next  day  I  departed  with  my  maid.  But  as  ill- 
luck  would  have  it,  a  horrid  typhoon  came  up,  and 
the  little  Japanese  captain  sought  shelter,  as  is  usual 
in  such  cases,  under  the  lee  of  an  island.  We  thus 
lost  twelve  precious  hours.  When  we  got  to  Chefoo, 
I  begged  him  to  make  up  time  by  cutting  short  his 
stay  in  that  port,  but  he  declared  that  he  had  mer- 
chandize to  land  and  to  load  which  would  make 
this  quite  impossible. 

My  bet  was  lost  if  I  could  not  find  a  way  of  avoiding 
this  delay.  But  I  intended  to  win  it  at  all  costs. 
So  I  told  my  maid  to  stick  to  the  ship  with  my  luggage, 


112  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

and  I  went  ashore  to  see  if  I  could  not  find  another 
vessel  starting  that  very  moment  for  the  Taku  Forts 
(where  we  took  train  for  Peking). 

I  took  just  enough  luggage  in  a  handbag  to  last 
me  a  few  days  and  went  to  the  British  Consul's  house, 
where  I  made  myself  known  and  begged  for  help. 
The  Consul  entered  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  the 
joke.  "  I  know  of  no  ship  sailing  from  this  port 
this  morning,"  he  said,  "  except  one — an  old  P.  and 
O.  tramp  steamer,  which  I  believe  is  due  to  sail  at  two 
o'clock.  But  she  carries  no  passengers,  and,  indeed, 
has  no  decent  accommodation  for  such."  "  Never 
mind,"  I  said,  "  introduce  me  to  the  captain  and 
let's  see  if  we  can't  persuade  him  to  take  me." 

The  captain  proved  to  be  a  delightful  old  boy,  and 
he  readily  promised  to  do  the  best  he  could  for  me, 
so  that,  before  an  hour  had  passed,  I  found  myself 
again  on  the  high  seas.  My  only  companions  besides 
the  captain  and  his  crew  were  two  "  travellers "  in 
celluloid  collars,  but  we  all  dined  together  and  they 
possessed  a  fund  of  anecdotes  which  made  the 
evening  pass  very  quickly. 

We  were  supposed  to  arrive  off  the  "  bar  "  at  the 
Taku  Forts  at  six  in  the  morning.  From  there, 
after  crossing  the  bar  in  a  small,  flat-bottomed  boat, 
a  short  trip  up  the  river  to  the  Taku  Forts  would 
land  me  near  the  station,  where  I  would  take  train 
for  Peking.  The  only  train  left  daily  at  one  o'clock 
and  the  journey  to  the  capital  lasted  about  six  hours, 
so  that  I  flattered  myself  I  could  just  manage  to 
arrive  in  time  to  win  my  bet. 

I  went  to  bed  quite  happy.  But  "  1'homme  propose 
et  Dieu  dispose !  "  When  I  came  up  on  deck  next 
morning  a  howling  storm  of  yellow  sand  was  blowing 


PEKING  113 

— one  of  those  storms  in  which  all  vision  is  cut  off — 
as  in  a  London  yellow  fog — by  a  solid  wall  of  golden 
dust,  the  minute  particles  of  which  are  absolutely 
blinding. 

I  saw  my  hopes  of  success  dashed  at  the  last  moment, 
and  I  implored  the  captain  to  help  me.  Was  there 
nothing  I  could  attempt  to  land  in  ?  Nothing,  he 
said,  except  one  of  the  tiny  little  flat-bottomed  barges 
of  the  Taku  Tug  and  Lighter  Company,  one  of  which 
he  had  seen  a  moment  before  when  the  veil  of  dust 
had  parted  for  a  moment. 

At  my  earnest  entreaty  he  consented  at  last  to 
hail  one.  The  storm  was  abating,  though  the  wind 
still  blew  strongly.  A  moment  later  the  barge,  only 
a  few  feet  long  and  manned  by  three  Chinamen,  came 
in  sight,  and  caught  a  rope  which  he  threw  out.  The 
captain  told  me  to  be  ready  to  jump  when  he  gave 
me  the  signal,  and  when  a  huge  wave  raised  the 
barge  to  a  sufficient  height  and  the  captain  said 
"  Go  !  "'  I  went,  and  by  the  greatest  luck  landed 
easily  and  well  on  the  little  ship's  deck. 

We  rapidly  lost  sight  of  the  larger  vessel.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  shipping  waiting  to  cross  the  bar, 
and  as  we  passed  under  the  bows  of  a  huge  man-of- 
war,  a  white  figured  hurtled  through  the  air  and 
alighted  on  its  feet  by  my  side. 

This  proved  to  be  an  engine-hand  of  Admiral  Evans' 
flagship  !  He  told  me  he  had  got  two  days'  leave, 
and,  like  myself,  desired  very  much  to  land,  but 
until  we  passed  under  the  bows  of  his  ship  he  had 
seen  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  satisfy  that  wish. 
He  hoped  I  was  not  annoyed  at  his  forcing  his  com- 
pany on  me  in  that  way !  I  was  destined  to  be  very 
glad  of  such  a  companion,  for  while  we  were  talking 


H4  '  INDISCRETIONS  * 

we  had  been  drifting  nearer  and  nearer  to  "  the  bar  "  ! 
We  soon  knew  we  were  on  it,  for  the  shallow  wind- 
driven  water  passing  over  it  left  us  high  and  dry 
every  now  and  then,  causing  us  to  bump  ominously 
on  the  sand. 

Suddenly  a  terrific  rending  sound  brought  terror 
into  the  situation.  My  friend  the  engine-hand  put 
a  brave  face  on  it.  "  Keep  calm,"  he  said,  "  while 
I  try  to  find  out  what  has  happened."  He  went, 
and  returned  to  my  side  in  a  few  moments.  "  The 
very  worst  has  occurred,"  he  said.  "  The  rudder 
chain  has  somehow  got  loose  and  become  entangled 
in  the  propeller ;  we  can't  move  one  way  or  the 
other."  "  What  will  happen  ?  "  I  asked,  with  a  voice 
which  I  tried  to  make  unconcerned.  "  One  of  two 
things,"  my  companion  answered.  "  Either  we  shall 
go  to  pieces  here  on  the  bar,  or  a  wave  may  float  us, 
in  which  case  we  should  drift  back  on  the  wind  to 
the  ships  we  have  left,  which  are  only  about  two 
miles  off." 

We  sat  and  waited,  the  waves  washing  right  over 
us.  But  luck  was  on  our  side.  The  Chinese  are  the 
most  ingenious  people  in  the  world.  They  got  to 
work  at  once  and  a  shout  of  triumph  soon  announced 
their  success.  We  heard  the  welcome  sound  of  the 
propeller  turning  once  more.  With  an  axe  they 
had  hacked  in  two  the  chain  which  entangled  the 
rudder. 

We  crossed  the  bar,  caught  the  train,  and  arrived 
in  Peking.  We  had  even  time,  my  Yankee  friend 
and  I,  to  enjoy  a  meal  of  ham  and  eggs,  which  was 
served  to  us  at  a  little  round  table  on  the  platform 
of  the  Taku  station.  I  saw  a  group  of  smart  naval 
officers  at  the  other  end  of  the  platform,  who,  my 


PEKING  115 

friend  told  me,  were  the  American  Admiral  and  his 
staff  going  to  Peking. 

Arrived  there,  I  told  Walter  the  story  of  my 
adventures  and  how  I  had  won  my  bet !  I 
jumped  into  evening  dress  and  got  to  the  American 
Legation  in  time  for  the  gala  dinner.  As  I  shook 
hands  with  the  Admiral  he  started  back  in  amaze- 
ment. "  Why,  Lady  Susan,"  he  said,  "  aren't  you 
the  lady  I  saw  at  the  Taku  station  this  morning? 
What  in  the  world  were  you  doing  there  having 
luncheon  with  one  of  the  engine-room  hands  of  my 
flagship  ?  "  I  explained  the  matter,  and  my  story 
was  received  with  cheers  and  much  laughter. 

I  won  my  bet  and  Sir  Claude  paid  up  like  a  man  ! 

I  find  in  a  letter  received  from  Peking  in  1908 
(some  years  after  we  had  left  there)  the  following 
words  :  "  There  is  a  great  deal  of  unrest  in  China. 
A  spark  would  kindle  a  conflagration  which  might 
easily  set  the  country  afire  and  end  in  an  upset  of 
the  existing  system.  There  is  discord  between  the 
leaders  of  the  opposition  to  the  old  Empress's  govern- 
ment. A  Grand  Council  is  shortly  to  be  held,  at 
which  she  and  her  Ministers  will  discuss  many  ques- 
tions, chief  among  them  being  the  selection  of  an 
heir  to  the  throne,  Kwang  Hsu  being  childless." 

The  necessity  for  this  selection  arose  from  the 
fact  that  according  to  Chinese  law,  sacrifices  have 
to  be  performed  every  year  at  a  fixed  season  at  the 
Imperial  tombs,  on  which  occasion  each  "  tablet  " 
of  the  Sacred  Ancestors  is  honoured  by  the  ceremony 
known  as  "  kotowing.'*  Etiquette  forbids  that  this 
ceremony  should  be  performed  by  one  of  the  same 
generation  as  the  deceased.  Thus,  when  the  Emperor 


Ii6  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Tung  Chih  died  of  smallpox  at  the  age  of  seventeen, 
his  mother,  the  Empress-Dowager,  chose  to  ignore 
the  fact  that  his  consort,  Ah-lu-te,  was  enceinte,  and 
therefore  might  soon  confer  an  heir  on  the  deceased 
sovereign,  who  would  worship  his  manes  according 
to  the  prescribed  Chinese  law. 

Secretly  intending  to  retain,  at  all  cost,  the  power 
she  had  wielded  for  so  long,  immediately  upon  the 
death  of  her  son  she  sent  off  a  strong  detachment 
of  Household  troops  to  the  residence  of  Prince  Chun, 
who  had  married  her  younger  sister,  with  orders  to 
bring  back  to  Peking,  in  an  Imperial  yellow  chair,  his 
infant  son. 

This  child  she  caused  to  be  proclaimed  Emperor 
under  the  name  of  Kwang  Hsu,  she  herself  assuming 
the  Regency  in  his  name. 

A  difficulty  now  arose  from  the  fact  that  Kwang 
Hsu  was  of  the  same  generation  as  Tung  Chih, 
and  therefore  could  not  worship  at  his  predecessor's 
tomb. 

But  Tse  Hsi  was  not  to  be  defeated  by  so  trifling 
a  difficulty.  She  caused  a  decree  to  be  published 
by  which  it  was  announced  that  as  soon  as  a  son 
should  be  born  to  Kwang  Hsu  the  child  should  be 
proclaimed  the  posthumously  adopted  son  of  Tung 
Chih,  so  that  it  might  be  in  a  position  to  worship 
his  manes. 

But  alas  for  man's  interferences  with  the  designs 
of  Providence  !  Kwang  Hsu  remained  childless.  This 
circumstance  proved  his  ruin,  for  it  was  made  the 
ground  for  his  enforced  abdication  in  1898,  at  the 
bidding  of  his  masterful  aunt,  who  then  resumed 
the  reins  of  government  which  she  had  relinquished 
for  a  short  time  when  the  Emperor  came  of  age, 


PEKING  117 

but  which  she  held  from  that  time  till  the  day  of  her 
death. 

The  question  of  an  heir  to  the  throne  remained 
unsettled  until  the  "  Old  Buddha  "  took  the  matter 
into  her  own  hands  and  settled  it  in  favour  of  a  young 
kinsman  of  hers  called  Prince  Pu  Chun,  who  was  suit- 
able from  the  manes-worshipping  point  of  view,  being 
of  a  younger  generation  than  Kwang  Hsu. 

Prince  Pu  Chun  was  the  son  of  Prince  Tuan,  after- 
wards leader  of  the  Boxer  movement.  In  January, 
1898,  Kwang  Hsu,  at  the  instigation  of  the  Empress- 
Dowager,  issued  a  Vermilion  Decree,  formally  appoint- 
ing him  Ta-A-Ko,  or  Heir  Apparent. 

This  boy  was  in  Peking  when  we  first  arrived  there, 
and  was  being  brought  up  at  the  Court  with  a  view 
to  the  position  which  it  was  intended  he  should 
ultimately  occupy.  But  he  was  a  detestable  youth, 
violent-tempered,  coarse-featured  and  rude-mannered. 
He  played  his  cards  very  badly  with  the  autocratic 
old  Empress. 

One  day  he  dressed  himself  up  as  a  Boxer,  and 
played  at  being  one  with  the  eunuchs  in  the  court- 
yard of  her  palace.  She  saw  him  from  a  distance, 
and  sending  for  his  father,  reproached  him  bitterly 
for  allowing  his  son  to  behave  in  so  unseemly  a 
manner. 

Another  time  he  is  said  to  have  smacked  the  young 
Emperor's  face,  calling  him  a  devil's  spawn.  This 
outrageous  insult  to  the  person  of  the  Son  of  Heaven, 
whom  common  mortals  were  not  even  supposed  to 
look  at  without  shading  their  eyes,  so  incensed  the 
old  Empress  that  she  condemned  the  offender  to 
twenty  strokes  of  the  whip. 

There  is  little  doubt  that    the  Empress-Dowager 


n8  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

secretly  encouraged  the  Boxer  movement,  and  there 
were  days,  no  doubt,  when  she  was  frantic  at  the 
slow  march  of  events  intended  to  culminate  in  the 
destruction  of  the  "  foreign  devils." 

It  is  said  that  at  that  time  the  edges  of  the  royal 
temper  were  very  frayed,  and  that  the  young  Heir 
Apparent  often  got  the  benefit  of  it. 

Just  before  the  Boxer  rising  he  seemed  to  be  heading 
straight  for  disaster.  From  being  an  expectant 
Emperor  it  looked  as  if  he  might  easily  become  a 
deposed  Heir  Apparent. 

And  so  it  eventually  happened.  For  when  it  was 
desired  to  re-establish  cordial  relations  between  the 
Court  and  the  Legation  it  was  realized  that  this  could 
not  possibly  be  achieved  while  the  son  of  the  notorious 
Boxer  leader,  Prince  Tuan,  remained  heir  to  the 
throne. 

The  Empress  was  not  hard  to  persuade  on  this 
point,  for  she  was  quite  willing  to  rid  herself  of  the 
uncouth  and  ungrateful  boy,  who  more  than  once 
had  brought  her  to  shame  by  his  disgraceful  con- 
duct. So  she  decided  to  juggle  once  more  with  the 
laws  of  succession,  and  in  1900  promulgated  a  decree 
cancelling  Pu  Chun's  title  as  heir  to  the  throne 
and  conferring  upon  him  in  exchange  the  rank  of 
an  imperial  duke  of  the  lowest  grade. 

This  worthless  youth  took  his  dismissal  with  perfect 
composure.  He  disappeared  from  the  public  stage 
and  sank  from  view  into  the  lowest  society  of  the 
capital. 

After  his  disgrace,  the  question  of  the  selection  of 
an  heir  to  the  throne  remained  in  abeyance  until 
1908,  when,  as  my  friend  wrote  to  me,  it  became  once 
more  urgent,  the  cause  being  the  increasing  infirmities 


PEKING  119 

of  the  old  Empress,  who  began  to  feel  the  approach 
of  her  own  death,  and  knew  that  that  of  her  miserable 
puppet,  Kwang  Hsu,  might  be  hourly  looked  for. 

In  that  year  she  suddenly  announced  the  time 
to  have  arrived  for  the  nomination  of  an  heir  to  the 
Emperor  Tung  Chih.  She  decreed  that  the  infant  son 
of  Prince  Chun,  brother  of  Kwang  Hsu,  should  be 
heir  to  the  throne,  and  should  perform  joint  sacrifices 
at  the  shrines  of  both  Emperors. 

Thus  to  the  very  end  did  this  remarkable  woman 
pull  the  strings  and  arrange  matters  to  suit  herself. 

But  with  her  death,  which  occurred  in  November, 
1908,  when  the  country  lost  her  strong  hand  of  guidance, 
the  fabric  which  she  had  held  together  in  her  iron 
grasp  crumbled.  A  revolution  broke  out  almost 
immediately,  headed  by  Yuan  Shih  Kai,  who  pro- 
claimed himself  First  President  of  the  Republic  of 
China. 

The  child  selected  by  the  old  Empress-Dowager  to 
succeed  her  remained  a  prisoner  in  the  palace.  We 
have  lately  heard  that  his  mother  committed  suicide 
by  opium  poisoning,  after  a  severe  quarrel  with  the 
widow  of  Kwang  Hsu,  who  had  been  appointed  by 
the  dying  Empress  to  succeed  her  as  Empress-Dowager, 
and  who  took  herself  very  seriously  as  such. 

Both  ladies,  it  appears,  had  their  own  ideas  on 
the  subject  of  the  young  Emperor's  marriage,  for 
each  one  had  a  particular  Manchu  beauty  in  view 
for  the  boy.  But  he  had  ideas  of  his  own  on  the 
subject,  and  he  preferred  yet  another ! 

The  Empress-Dowager,  taking  a  leaf  from  the 
"  Old  Buddha's "  book,  was  determined  to  have 
her  own  way.  She  notified  the  recalcitrant  Prince 
that  his  marriage  was  a  question  for  the  decision 


120  '  INDISCRETIONS  * 

of  the  Imperial  Court,  and  that  he  must  abide  by  its 
wishes. 

This  led  to  bitter  words  between  them.  Prince 
and  Princess  Chun  were  summoned  to  recall  their 
son  to  a  proper  notion  of  his  duty.  But  the  Princess 
took  her  boy's  part,  with  the  result  that  a  serious 
breach  occurred  between  her  and  the  Empress.  A 
few  days  later  she  died,  and  it  was  rumoured  that 
she  had  committed  suicide. 

The  boy  Emperor,  who  is  now  sixteen,  is  said  to  be 
looking  for  an  opportunity  to  assert  his  authority 
against  that  of  the  Dowager-Empress.  It  will  be 
interesting  to  see  what  further  part  he  takes  in  the 
history  of  his  country,  and  if  he  ever  attempts  to 
upset  the  existing  Republic,  and  to  restore  the  great 
Empire  of  which  he  was  the  figure-head  for  such  a 
brief  spell  after  the  death  of  Tse  Hsi. 


CHAPTER  VI 
AN  INTERLUDE 

AFTER  leaving  Peking  we  were  in  London  for 
some  months  "on  leave."     It  was  just  before 
the  Russo-Japanese  War  broke  out,  and  King  Edward 
sent  for  Walter  and  questioned  him  closely  concerning 
Far  Eastern  problems. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  generation  or  two,  when 
sufficient  time  has  elapsed  for  historians  to  be  able 
properly  to  focus  his  period,  it  will  be  realized,  more 
even  than  now,  how  very  able  a  monarch  King  Edward 
was,  and  how  much  he  did  for  his  country,  not  only 
during  his  all  too  short  reign,  but  during  those  many 
years  when,  as  Prince  of  Wales,  he  exerted  his  remark- 
able influence  upon  the  world. 

Not  the  least  of  his  strong  points  was  his  capacity 
for  sizing  up  a  situation  and  foreseeing  the  consequences 
that  might  arise  from  it.  On  this  occasion  Walter 
was  much  struck  by  the  grasp  which  he  had  of  the 
Russo-Japanese  question.  He  was  most  anxious  to 
hear  the  minutest  details  bearing  upon  the  threatened 
war. 

These  Walter  could  give  him,  and  they  had  a  long 
talk  concerning  the  attitude  of  Russia  in  the  burning 
question  of  the  evacuation  of  Manchuria.  The 
Russians  had  time  and  again  promised  that  it 
should  be  effected  by  November  18,  1903,  at  least, 

121 


122  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

that  was  the  last  date  fixed  after  many  postpone- 
ments, but  they  had  no  intention  of  fulfilling  their 
pledge,  for  they  secretly  despised  the  Japanese  and 
never  believed  they  would  fight  on  such  a  question. 
However,  we  had  formed  a  very  different  opinion  in 
Peking,  based  on  what  we  had  seen  there. 

The  Japanese  and  Russian  Legations  flanked  the 
main  canal  of  Peking  on  opposite  sides  of  the  stream. 
Each  had  a  strong  guard  of  soldiers,  for  hardly  two 
years  had  elapsed  since  the  Boxer  rising.  Every 
evening  at  sundown  as  we  walked  along  the  canal 
bank,  which  was  one  of  the  few  possible  walks  in 
the  Chinese  capital,  we  were  struck  by  hearing  from 
the  Russian  side  their  beautiful  evening  prayer, 
sung  by  the  troops  in  unison.  From  the  Japanese 
side  came  only  frantic  shrieks  of  "banzai."  The 
little  yellow  troops  were  preparing  for  battle  while 
the  Russians  prayed,  and  Walter  would  turn  to  me 
and  say :  "  The  Russians  are  sleeping  on  the  edge 
of  a  volcano ;  they  are  deliberately  adopting  an 
ostrich  policy  of  not  seeing  more  than  they  wish  to." 

We  used  to  dance  a  lot  in  Peking  in  the  various 
European  Legations,  and  I  remember  observing  to 
one  of  the  Russian  secretaries  that  the  time  was 
getting  short  for  their  evacuation  of  Manchuria. 
"  The  i8th  of  November  is  not  far  off !  "  I  remarked. 
"  Oh,  we  shan't  evacuate,"  he  said ;  "  that's  all 
bluff !  "  "  But,"  I  argued,  shocked  at  his  flippancy, 
"  Russia  has  pledged  her  word  of  honour  !  "  We  were 
speaking  in  French,  and  his  answer  has  always 
remained  in  my  mind.  "  Madame,  la  Russie  n'a 
pas  de  parole  d'honneur,  et  n'en  a  pas  besoin  !  >;  And, 
of  course,  he  was  quite  right ;  the  date  came  and 
passed,  and  still  no  evacuation  occurred,  and  to  all 


AN  INTERLUDE  123 

with  eyes  to  see  it  became  patent  that  sooner  or 
later  this  question,  so  vital  to  Tokio,  would  develop 
into  one  of  peace  or  war  between  the  two  countries. 

We  went  at  the  end  of  1903  to  Port  Arthur  to  see 
for  ourselves  what  was  going  on  there.  Admiral 
Alexeiew,  the  Russian  Viceroy  of  the  province  in 
dispute,  was  in  residence  at  the  port.  We  stayed 
for  several  days  at  the  hotel,  using  ears  and  eyes  to 
the  best  advantage,  and  our  visit  proved  to  be  most 
informative,  for  on  Alexeiew 's  staff  were  two  old. 
friends  of  ours,  Monsieur  Plancon,  Political  Adviser 
to  the  Viceroy,  and  General  Wogack,  Military  Attache 
to  the  Russian  Legation  in  Peking  and  Tokio,  one  of 
the  handsomest  men  in  Europe,  who  afterwards 
came  to  be  well  known  in  London.  These  two  friends 
introduced  us  to  the  Viceroy,  and  so  organized  our 
visit  that  we  were  able  to  see  everything  of  interest 
that  was  going  on  in  that  port. 

To  serious-minded  people  the  Russians  really 
seemed  to  be  playing  with  explosives.  They  wil- 
fully ignored  the  war  preparations  of  the  Japanese, 
which  were  patent  to  the  eye  of  the  veriest  tyro. 
An  English  merchant  in  Port  Arthur  took  us  round 
and  showed  us  the  gun  emplacements  of  the  Russians, 
which  he  said  had  been  accurately  charted  by  the 
Japanese.  He  told  us  that  there  were  about  600 
Japanese  barbers  and  waiters  in  the  town  who  were 
well-known  to  be  soldier  spies.  He  declared  that 
the  Japanese  in  the  hinterland  of  the  port  had  secret 
dumps  everywhere  of  munitions  and  provisions,  ready 
for  the  use  of  their  armies  when  the  time  came. 

Their  war  preparations  were  in  an  advanced  stage, 
and  all  the  time  Russia  was  "  fiddling,"  and  Russian 
graft  in  the  port  was  rampant.  Our  Russian  friends 


124  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

showed  us  with  pride  the  bunker  coal  stacked  on  the 
wharves  round  the  port — all  Cardiff,  they  declared ; 
but  the  English  merchant  whispered  that  in  reality 
they  were  Cardiff  only  on  the  outside  of  the  piles, 
the  inside  being  cheap  Japanese  stuff,  the  difference 
in  the  price  lining  the  pockets  of  those  responsible 
for  the  purchase.  We  saw  case  upon  case  of  some- 
thing piled  up  all  round  the  port,  and  on  inquiry 
elicited  the  interesting  fact  that  those  cases  contained 
"  vodka  "  for  the  Russian  troops  ! 

Alexeiew  was  a  charming  man,  and,  I  must  say,  most 
kind  and  hospitable.  He  entertained  us  in  his  beauti- 
ful house,  the  windows  of  which  looked  out  on  the 
port,  which  is  circular  in  shape  with  only  one  exit 
to  the  sea,  that  exit  being  flanked  by  high  walls  of 
rock  and  so  narrow  that  a  chain  thrown  across  it 
could  practically  bar  the  entrance  to  ships. 

This  port,  it  will  be  remembered,  played  a  great 
part  in  the  subsequent  Russo-Japanese  War,  for  the 
Japanese  opened  hostilities  by  a  terrific  bombard- 
ment of  it  without  warning. 

We  were  lunching  one  day  at  the  Viceroy's  table 
and  looking  out  at  the  busy  scene  of  moving  shipping 
in  the  port.  "  Why  won't  Russia  adopt  our  English 
principle  of  Free  Trade  ?  "  I  asked,  alluding  to  the 
real  bone  of  contention  between  Russia  and  Japan. 
"  We  have  done  so,"  answered  the  Viceroy.  "  Look 
out  of  that  window ;  don't  you  see  the  flags  of  all 
nations  flying  on  the  shipping  ?  '  "  Yes,  I  do," 
I  answered,  following  the  direction  of  his  glance, 
"but  tell  me,  how  often  do  Russian  ships  pay  dues 
on  entering  the  port  ?  "  "  The  first  time  only,"  he 
replied.  "  And  the  foreign  shipping  ?  "  I  persisted. 
"  Ah  !  every  time  they  enter,"  he  admitted.  "  There 


AN  INTERLUDE  125 

you  have  it !  "  I  said.  "  That  is  not  England's  or 
Japan's  idea  of  a  free  port !  '' 

Many  details  of  this  kind  Walter  told  King  Edward, 
who  listened  with  attention.  "  Then  why,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  do  Sir  Charles  Scott  (then  our  Ambassador 
in  Russia),  the  Foreign  Office,  and  the  City  tell  me 
there  will  be  no  war  ?  Have  you  seen  Lord  Lans- 
downe  ?  '  Walter  said  "  Yes,"  but  the  King  insisted  : 
"  Then  go  back  to  the  Foreign  Office  and  see  him 
again,  and  tell  him  what  you  have  told  me,  with 
all  the  details  you  have  put  before  me  in  confirmation 
of  your  views." 

Walter  did  as  he  was  bid,  but  he  was  not  again 
admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  Foreign  Minister. 
He  delivered  his  message  to  the  Private  Secretary, 
which  may  or  may  not  have  been  passed  on.  Any- 
how, he  was  not  questioned  further  upon  what  he 
knew,  or  professed  to  know. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  we  met  King  Edward  at 
a  private  dinner  on  February  8,  1904 — the  very  day 
when  Port  Arthur  was  bombarded  by  the  Japanese. 
The  King  pulled  out  of  his  pocket  a  telegram  an- 
nouncing the  event,  which  he  had  received  just  before 
coming  to  dinner.  He  passed  it  down  the  table  to 
Walter,  remarking  as  he  did  so  :  "  This  means  war 
with  Russia.  You  were  right,  after  all !  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONSTANTINOPLE 

Constantinople  from  within — Abdul  Hamid,  the  little  wizened  old 
despot,  his  subtle  cruelties  and  cowardice  in  private  and  public 
life — The  secrets  of  the  harem,  and  the  bitter  cry  of  the  Turkish 
women. 

A  QUICK  turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune,  guided  by 
the  Foreign  Office,  wafted  us  in  1903  from  Peking 
to  Constantinople,  from  the  Court  of  the  Old  Buddha 
to  the  Selamlik  of  the  Tyrant  of  Islam. 

I  remember  with  what  interest  I  found  myself  in 
the  presence  of  Abdul  Hamid,  the  ex-Kaiser's  friend, 
the  cruel  despot  who,  in  a  reign  of  thirty-three  years 
(he  was  deposed  and  imprisoned  in  1908),  was  never 
so  happy  as  when  oppressing  his  subjects. 

He  was  a  little  wizened  old  man  with  a  keen,  intelli- 
gent face  and  piercing  dark  eyes.  He  wore  undress 
uniform  and  an  ordinary  fez  with  a  black  tassel  depend- 
ing from  it.  He  always  stood  when  receiving  European 
representatives  and  their  wives  after  the  Friday 
Selamlik,  and  on  these  occasions  manoeuvred  so  that 
no  one  should  pass  behind  him.  I  suppose  he  always 
had  an  instinctive  fear  of  an  assassin's  dagger. 

This  stooping,  cringing  "  shadow  of  God  "  was  a 
strange  mixture  of  physical  cowardice  and  so-called 
diplomacy.  Having  reached  the  throne  after  a  series 
of  harem  tragedies  calculated  to  make  him  for  ever 

126 


CONSTANTINOPLE  127 

fearful  for  his  own  safety,  he  was  surrounded  always 
by  an  army  of  spies  who  reported  to  him  daily  the 
sayings  and  doings  of  his  entourage.  It  is  said  that 
even  when  the  end  of  his  career  came  in  1908,  and  the 
deputation  from  Parliament  arrived  at  Yildiz  Kiosk 
to  announce  to  him  his  deposition  in  favour  of  his 
brother,  he  received  them  trembling  and  weak-kneed. 
With  tearful  voice  he  begged  that  his  life  at  least 
might  be  spared.  Even  as  he  spoke  his  treacherous 
hand  caressed  in  his  pocket  the  revolver  he  always 
carried  but  was  too  cowardly  to  use ! 

His  political  methods  were  underhand  yet  marked 
by  a  curious  political  Astuteness.  His  motto  was 
divide  et  impera,  as  far  as  Europe  was  concerned. 
He  always  played  off  one  country  against  another, 
and  he  was  clever  enough  to  realize  that  "  sick  " 
as  Turkey  was,  it  yet  could  not  be  allowed  to  dis- 
appear as  a  political  entity.  That  he  was  right  in 
this  judgment  the  Peace  of  Versailles  has  once  more 
proved.  Whatever  else  goes,  Turkey  in  Europe  will 
remain !  In  the  early  days  of  his  reign  he  was  a 
puppet  in  the  hands  of  his  powerful  Minister,  Midhat 
Pasha,  an  illiterate  but  capable  soldier  who  had  just 
made  his  mark  as  Vali  of  Baghdad  under  Abdul  Aziz. 
But  the  policy  of  this  statesman,  which  was,  nomin- 
ally at  least,  one  of  equality  for  Mussulman  and 
Christian,  did  not  suit  Abdul  Hamid,  who  dreamed 
of  restoring  the  former  absolute  power  of  Turkey 
by  gradually  eliminating  where  possible  European 
and  Christian  influence  and  accentuating  the  Turkish 
and  Mohammedan  character  of  the  Ottoman  Empire. 
His  methods  to  this  end  were  drastic  and  Oriental. 
They  included  the  removal  of  obstacles  to  it,  such 
as  Midhat,  by  private  assassination,  or,  as  in  the  case 

i 


128  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

of  the  Armenians,  by  massacre  en  masse.  Midhat 
was  one  of  his  first  victims,  but  he  was  followed  by 
hundreds  of  others.  Thousands  yearly  fled  the 
country  to  avoid  the  almost  equally  undesirable  fate 
of  official  banishment.  Thus,  little  by  little,  Abdul 
Hamid  acquired  undisputed  power. 

He  made  concessions  to  Europe  (when  he  couldn't 
do  otherwise)  and  wherever  the  Turkish  element  was 
in  a  minority.  In  Asiatic  Turkey  he  likewise  kept 
before  his  eyes  his  ultimate  aim  of  consolidating  and 
extending  his  influence. 

Contemptible  as  was  his  private  life,  this  profligate 
sovereign  did  not  hesitate  to  use  his  position  of  Caliph 
to  further  his  ambitious  ends.  He  played  upon  the 
religious  sentiments  of  his  Mohammedan  subjects,  and 
as  the  official  guardian  of  their  holy  places  tried  to 
conciliate  the  Arabs  of  the  Hedjaz  and  Yemen  by 
building  the  Hedjaz  railway.  He  failed,  however, 
to  quell  the  constant  revolts  of  those  tribes  against 
his  Government. 

This  Hedjaz  railway  was  destined  to  play  an 
important  political  part.  The  ex-Emperor  William, 
looking  for  an  economic  outlet  for  the  surplus  popu- 
lation of  Germany,  cast  covetous  eyes  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  "  Sultan  Massacreur's "  Asiatic  posses- 
sions, and  set  to  work  by  personal  influence  to  flatter 
him  into  the  yielding  of  substantial  concessions  to 
the  friendly  German  Empire.  In  1889  he  paid  the 
Sultan  his  first  visit.  Then  in  1898  he  made  a  pil- 
grimage to  Damascus,  and  there,  after  the  theatrical 
laying  of  a  cross  upon  the  tomb  of  Saladin,  proclaimed 
himself  "  for  ever  "  protector  of  the  Moslem  world. 
Meanwhile  his  able  Ambassador  in  Constantinople, 
Count  Marshal  von  Bieberstein,  was  forwarding 


COUNT  MARSHAL  VON    BIEBERSTEIN 


CONSTANTINOPLE  129 

his  Emperor's  interests  by  flattering  the  young  Turks 
with  visions  of  a  Baghdad  railway  and  potential 
riches  in  the  Mesopotamian  basin  and  Iranian  plateau. 
As  early  as  1885  the  Turks  had  played  the  English 
false,  and  the  Germans  had  scored  over  us  by  getting 
the  Porte  to  violate  in  their  favour  the  lease  granted 
to  a  British  Company  to  build  a  railway  from  Ismidt 
to  Haidar  Pasha.  This  line  subsequently  became  the 
Anatolian  railway,  and  the  result  of  the  Emperor's 
first  visit  to  Constantinople  was  its  extension  to 
Konieh ! 

When  in  1898  it  became  desirable  for  the  Germans 
that  this  line  should  be  still  further  extended  to 
Baghdad  and  the  Persian  Gulf  (the  shortest  Berlin- 
India  route  independent  of  the  sea  !),  the  Emperor 
himself  became  the  ambassador  of  German  capital. 
He  sought  this  concession  at  Constantinople  on  the 
occasion  of  a  second  visit  to  the  Sultan,  who,  "  tickled 
to  death  "  by  the  Emperor's  friendship,  granted  it 
at  once.  Though  nominally  a  commercial  line,  there 
could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  military  significance  of 
this  railway  when  completed.  The  Russians  were 
not  slow  to  appreciate  the  value  of  such  a  strategic 
line  on  their  flank.  They  vetoed  its  extension  towards 
the  Russo-Turkish  frontier. 

When  we  left  Constantinople  Abdul  Hamid  was 
still  the  all-powerful  Sultan,  friend  of  the  German 
Emperor.  But  in  the  years  that  followed  up  to  1908 
his  prestige  waned,  and  his  enemies  waxed  stronger. 
After  his  deposition  he  was  removed  with  his  wives 
and  a  favourite  cat  to  the  Villa  Allatini  in  Salonika, 
where  doubtless,  during  the  Great  War,  he  could  hear 
the  distant  sound  of  the  guns  he  had  helped  by  his 
pro-German  policy  to  bring  into  action. 


130  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

There  was  nothing  romantic  about  this  Sultan  as 
we  saw  him  in  his  Palace  at  Yildiz — nothing  of  the 
splendour  associated  in  one's  mind  with  the  Sultans 
of  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights.  I  had  dreamed 
of  softly  splashing  fountains  in  marble  courts,  of  rows 
of  silent  jewel-laden  slaves,  of  divans,  rose  jam  and 
nargileh.  Instead  of  these  I  passed  into  the  royal 
presence  through  apartments  dark  and  gloomy  as 
those  of  a  German  boarding-house,  and  furnished 
in  much  the  same  style. 

In  the  mysterious  East  there  is  an  institution,  called 
the  "  harem,"  that  to  a  Westerner  is  redolent  of 
the  exotic  charm  of  The  Arabian  Nights.  Because 
of  its  closely  guarded,  centuries-old  secrets,  because 
no  Western  man  may  penetrate  it  save  with  infinite 
cunning  and  at  dire  peril,  it  retains  some  of  the  glamour 
of  Haroun-al-Raschid's  days.  But  has  it  any  resemb- 
lance now  to  what  it  was  under  the  magnificent 
Caliph  ? 

I  am  bound  to  confess  that  not  only  the  palace 
of  the  Sultan  but  also  the  houses  of  the  upper-class 
Turks  which  I  visited  were  very  unromantic.  The 
decorations  were  nearly  always  in  tawdry  red  and 
gilt,  the  pictures  for  the  most  part  oleographs  of 
landscapes  in  tarnished  frames,  and  the  domestic 
arrangements  primitive  and  somewhat  slovenly. 

Turkish  homes  differ  from  ours,  of  course,  in  that 
the  sexes  live  apart,  the  men  visiting  the  haremlik 
only  of  those  women  who  are  closely  related  to  them, 
while  women  never  penetrate  to  the  selamlik,  or  men's 
quarters.  The  girls  of  the  upper  classes,  however, 
are  educated  much  as  our  girls  are,  learning  languages 
from  foreign  governesses,  playing  Bach  and  Wagner 
on  the  piano,  and  having  an  extensive  acquaintance 


CONSTANTINOPLE  131 

with  the  European  fiction  which  provides  them  with 
their  often-mistaken  ideas  of  the  lives  of  Western 
women. 

One  of  my  Turkish  acquaintances,  Besna  Hanum, 
the  wife  of  a  close  relative  of  the  Sultan  and  a  beauti- 
ful and  highly-educated  woman,  told  me  that  the 
European  education  of  Turkish  women  has  its  draw- 
backs. "  We  read  a  good  deal  we  can  neither  digest 
nor  practise,"  she  said,  "  and  so  we  become  restless 
and  unhappy,  wanting  things  which  are  denied  us." 

The  harem  of  Besna  Hanum  was  one  of  the  first 
I  visited  during  my  stay  in  Turkey,  and  I  remember 
well  my  surprise  on  my  first  arrival  to  find  myself  being 
assisted  from  my  carriage  by  a  gaunt  negro  in  a  black 
frock  coat  and  red  fez.  Inside  the  hall  I  was  met 
by  a  crowd  of  female  slaves.  These  slaves  were 
far  from  beautiful.  They  were  negresses  varying 
in  age  from  fifteen  to  forty,  and  as  they  removed 
my  wraps  I  could  scarce  help  smiling  at  their  ludicrous 
appearance.  Dressed  in  the  latest  Paris  fashions 
by  local  dressmakers,  the  designs  carried  out  in  the 
homeliest  of  materials,  flannel  having  the  preference, 
they  evidently  gave  much  time  and  thought  to  their 
appearance.  The  extra  length  of  their  trains  and 
the  rakishness  of  the  flower-trimmed  white  muslin 
bonnets  perched  on  the  top  of  their  fuzzy  heads  bore 
witness  to  their  determination  to  make  the  most 
of  themselves.  They  led  me  to  their  mistress,  and 
during  the  whole  of  my  visit  stood  round  offering 
tea  and  rose  jam,  and  generally  attending  to  our 
wants  and  listening  to  our  conversation. 

Although  slavery  as  an  institution  was  then  for- 
bidden by  law,  a  busy  traffic  in  slaves  was  still  carried 
on  en  cachette,  boat-loads  of  Circassians  and  negroes 


132  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

being  frequently  brought  to  Constantinople  and 
secreted  by  well-known  dealers  until  they  were  dis- 
posed of  for  two  or  three  pounds  each  to  Turkish 
buyers.  One  leading  Turk  told  me  quite  openly: 
"  Of  course,  we  have  our  slaves.  How  could  we 
get  on  without  them  ?  "  and,  pointing  to  a  pretty 
twelve-year-old  child  who  was  serving  us  at  dinner,  he 
whispered,  "  That  girl  may  one  day  be  the  wife  of 
'  The  Highest  in  the  Land.'  She  promises  to  be  very 
beautiful,  and  soon  I  shall  send  her  as  a  present  to 
His  Majesty.  If  she  bears  him  a  son  she  may  become 
a  Sultanah.  And  I  shall  gain  .  .  .  well,  promotion  !  " 

This  unscrupulous  Turk,  who  saw  nothing  revolting 
in  this  intended  sale  of  a  human  being,  told  me  a 
story,  which  he  swore  was  true,  of  a  Sudanese  slave 
he  once  purchased  from  a  slave  boat.  She  was  a 
wild,  handsome  creature,  who  was  with  difficulty 
persuaded  to  wear  any  more  clothing  than  was  fashion- 
able in  her  old  home.  One  day,  when  her  civilization 
was  apparently  complete,  she  was  out  with  his 
daughters  when  she  caught  sight  of  an  English  naval 
officer  in  uniform.  Zoe's  eyes  glistened.  Smacking 
her  lips,  she  gurgled  to  the  terrified  girls :  "  C'est 
bon  ca.  Dans  mon  pays  on  mange  ca.  La  peau 
est  tres  blanche.  On  fait  bien  bouillir,  puis  on  met 
la  graisse  sur  du  pain  et  on  mange ! "  ("  There's 
something  good !  In  my  country  we  eat  them. 
The  skin  is  very  white.  First  we  boil  them,  and  then 
we  spread  the  fat  on  bread  and  eat  it.")  Presumably 
the  sight  of  his  white  skin  and  uniform  had  aroused 
her  dormant  cannibal  instinct  by  recalling  some 
memory  of  her  childhood. 

In  the  brilliant  days  of  the  Turkish  harems,  slaves, 
standing  erect  and  motionless,  were  ranged  against 


CONSTANTINOPLE  133 

the  walls  wearing  magnificent  garments  and  hung 
with  jewels,  the  wealth  and  importance  of  the  family 
being  largely  judged  by  the  lavish  display  of  them. 
How  so  many  useless  mouths  could  be  fed  on  the 
slender  incomes  of  the  Turkish  officials  used  to  puzzle 
me.  Nor  had  they  themselves  solved  the  problem, 
for  one  Turkish  acquaintance  told  me  with  a  smile, 
"  Madame,  at  the  end  of  the  year  a  Turkish  gentle- 
man's budget  very  often  shows  a  deficit  like  that  of 
his  Government.  But  what  does  it  matter !  " 

The  expression  of  an  intense  longing  for  freedom 
perpetually  recurs  in  the  conversation  of  a  Turkish 
woman.  Sadie,  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  most 
rebellious  of  my  young  friends,  used  to  tell  me  of  the 
petty  restraints  of  her  life.  Even  the  shape  and 
thickness  of  the  garments  worn  in  the  street  were 
governed  by  direct  decree  from  the  Sultanate.  Turkish 
women  might  not  use  fur  or  any  other  trimming 
on  their  street  clothes.  They  were  not  allowed  to 
go  out  without  a  companion  or  attendant  slaves, 
and  unless  a  carriage  and  a  kavass  (an  armed  man- 
servant) fetched  them,  they  had  to  be  home  by  sun- 
down. Theatres  and  all  public  places  of  entertain- 
ment were  forbidden  them,  and  on  returning  home  they 
had  to  suffer  the  ignominy  of  having  a  full  account 
of  their  doings  rendered  to  the  pasha  by  the  kavass. 
Their  letters  were  examined  by  the  pasha  before 
they  received  them ;  and  they  were  never  free  from 
the  prying  eyes  of  slaves. 

One  can  imagine  the  effect  on  the  nerves  of  sen- 
sitive women  of  such  constant  restraint.  But  although 
so  "  cribbed,  cabin  'd  and  confin'd,"  Turkish  girls 
were  sometimes  very  gay  and  full  of  fun.  I  remember 
once  sitting  with  a  number  of  them  in  the  dusk  of 


134  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

a  summer  evening  at  Therapia,  where  we  had  been 
drawn  by  the  beauty  of  the  day  to  visit  a  friend  who 
lived  in  a  picturesque  yali,  the  balconies  of  which 
overhung  the  turquoise  waters  of  the  Bosphorus. 
One  of  the  girls  suggested  a  game.  "  Let's  all  give 
our  written  opinion  of  Pierre  Loti,"  she  cried,  "  and 
the  prize  for  the  best  shall  be  a  jar  of  Sadie's  rose 
jam !  "  So  paper  and  pencils  were  fetched,  and  I 
watched  the  competitors  as  they  sat  intent,  biting 
the  ends  of  their  pencils,  their  dark  eyes  fixed 
reflectively  on  the  gleaming  water  outside  as  they 
tried  to  fix  in  words  the  characteristics  of  the  man 
who  at  that  time  interested  Turkish  women  more 
than  any  other. 

A  few  moments  later  the  signal  was  given,  and 
all  hands  were  outstretched  offering  me  the  papers 
to  be  read  aloud.  I  remember  how  struck  I  was  with 
the  piquancy  of  the  judgments  passed  on  the  great 
French  writer.  The  one  to  which  the  prize  was 
awarded  by  common  consent  ran  as  follows  :  "  Pierre 
Loti  vaut  moins  que  ses  livres  et  ses  livres  valent 
plus  que  sa  vie !  "  Pretty  scathing  that  as  an  appre- 
ciation, but  the  writer  professed  to  know  Loti  well, 
and  was  one  of  the  originals  of  his  book,  Les  Desen- 
chanties.  To  get  his  knowledge  of  harem  life  at  first 
hand,  he  had,  I  was  told,  broken  all  the  rules  of  Turkish 
etiquette  and  had  forced  himself  into  more  than 
one  of  those  secluded  haunts  of  maiden  dreams,  the 
harems  of  Constantinople,  and  it  was  probably  on 
this  fact  that  they  founded  their  unkind  judgment 
of  him. 

There  was  a  time  when  I  imagined  that  the  harem 
was  absolutely  inaccessible  to  any  man  but  the 
husband,  father  or  son  of  the  inmates,  but  when 


CONSTANTINOPLE  135 

I  got  to  know  these  Turkish  girls  better  they  laughed 
at  my  idea.  "  Of  course,"  one  of  them  said,  "  people 
will  tell  you  that  such  things  cannot  happen — that 
too  careful  a  watch  is  kept  over  a  woman  and  that 
her  servants  would  betray  her — but  I  know  that 
there  are  hundreds  of  flirtations  now  going  on  in  the 
harems.  Turkish  women  are  extraordinarily  clever 
at  carrying  on  a  clandestine  affair,  and  the  risk  of 
discovery  makes  the  adventure  all  the  more  alluring 
to  a  caged  woman.  Besides,  slaves  are  no  harder 
to  bribe  than  others !  " 

Indeed,  our  afternoon  party  at  the  yali  on  the 
shores  of  the  Bosphorus  afforded  me  an  illustration 
of  the  truth  of  these  words.  After  supper  the  father 
of  our  hostess,  Mirhi,  joined  us,  his  grave,  severe 
presence  lending  a  solemnity  to  our  conversation 
which  had  before  his  coming  been  entirely  absent 
from  it.  Silently  he  sat  as  he  lazily  sipped  his  coffee 
and  smoked  his  chibook.  Presently  one  of  his  daughters 
rose  from  her  seat  near  the  window  and,  going  over 
to  the  piano,  began  to  sing  a  passionate  Western 
love  song  with  a  fervour  which  could  not  fail  to  move 
the  soul  of  a  listener. 

The  old  pasha  leaned  towards  me.  Jerking  his 
thumb  backwards  towards  his  song-bird  he  whispered 
to  me  in  a  raucous  undertone,  "  What  pleases  me 
most  in  my  daughter's  song  is  that  I  alone  of  all  men 
may  enjoy  it."  I  caught  Mirhi's  eye  as  she  stood 
behind  him.  She  was  laughing,  yes,  splitting  with 
laughter  at  her  father's  words.  "  Come  and  look 
at  the  moon,"  she  said  aloud.  Then  she  whispered, 
"  Quick,  look  there,  under  the  window !  "  I  looked 
out  and  saw  close  to  the  landing-steps  a  white  caique, 
and,  sitting  in  it,  motionless,  a  foreigner  wrapped  in 


136  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

the  folds  of  his  cloak.  One  hand  idly  balanced  an 
oar,  the  other  rested  against  the  wall  of  the  yali. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  I  asked  in  amazement. 

"  Only  a  fisherman,"  answered  Mirhi.  "  My  sister 
sings  to  him  every  evening  at  this  hour." 

Erminie  subsequently  told  me  the  whole  story 
of  her  little  romance.  The  "  fisherman  "  was  really 
a  young  naval  officer  attached  to  one  of  the  French 
ships  then  in  the  Port  whom  she  had  known  for  some 
time — that  is,  if  to  make  signs  without  speaking 
and  to  recognize  a  woman  whose  veil  has  not  been 
lifted  is  to  "  know."  She  had  seen  him  when  out 
driving  with  her  grandmother,  and  had  received 
notes  which  he  had  managed  to  smuggle  into  the 
carriage.  After  a  time  she  had  replied  to  these  in 
a  note  tossed  out  of  the  carriage  window  as  she  passed 
him,  in  which  she  said  that  she  could  never  grant 
his  request  for  a  meeting,  but  that  she  would  sing 
for  him  each  evening  and  that  in  her  songs  he  would 
find  the  answer  to  his  wonderful  letters. 

But  Erminie  soon  tired  of  singing  to  an  unseen 
lover.  One  day,  when  I  was  invited  to  iftar  (luncheon) 
with  the  cousins  who  had  first  taken  me  to  visit  her, 
she  failed  to  turn  up,  having  seized  the  opportunity 
to  spend  an  amusing  tete  d  tete  in  a  mosque  with  her 
unknown  admirer  (disguised  as  a  Turk)  while  her 
father  thought  her  safe  with  her  relatives.  Growing 
bolder,  she  conveyed  to  him  a  complete  Turkish 
woman's  dress  with  tcharchaff  and  veil,  and  actually 
had  the  audacity  to  admit  him  to  her  own  harem. 
Advancing  a  step  further,  she  received  him  in  her 
bedroom  on  the  top  story  of  the  house,  to  which 
he  gained  access  by  a  hole  in  the  roof ! 

The  end  of  this  little  romance  was  much  as  I  had 


CONSTANTINOPLE  137 

expected.  I  read  it  one  day  in  a  few  laconic  lines  of 

a  local  paper.  "  The  daughter  of  has  brought 

great  trouble  upon  her  family  by  eloping  with  a  foreign 
officer.  She  returned,  indeed,  a  few  days  ago  to 
her  father's  home,  the  officer  having  deserted  her, 
and  was  forgiven,  but  he  can  never  hope  to  out- 
live the  disgrace  brought  upon  his  name."  Poor 
Erminie  ! 

But  I  could  run  on  for  ever  telling  stories  of  my 
little  Turkish  friends,  for  they  fascinated  me  beyond 
words,  being  so  clever,  mischievous,  unhappy,  passion- 
ate and  light-hearted  by  turns.  They  were  as  frank 
as  children,  and  told  me  all  their  private  affairs  and 
initiated  me  into  all  the  mysteries  of  that  strange 
life  of  the  harem.  Often  I  pitied  them,  but  again 
I  would  say  to  myself,  "  Autres  pays,  autres  mceurs." 
Are  we  more  certain  of  happiness  who  wear  no  tcharchaff 
and  who  dance  the  tango  with  the  man  who  admires 
us  ? 

Nothing  in  Pierre  Loti's  book  is  truer  than  his 
description  of  the  gulf  which  education  has  fixed 
between  Turkish  mothers  and  their  daughters.  He 
calls  it  ''a  gulf  of  at  least  two  centuries,"  and  so, 
indeed,  it  is.  I  was  much  struck  with  this  contrast 
when  I  visited  the  wife  and  daughter  of  Hamil  Pasha. 
Both  wore  European  dress,  but  while  the  pretty  dark- 
eyed  daughter  seemed  perfectly  suited  to  her  fashion- 
able toilette,  the  garments  sat  ill  on  her  mother's 
figure. 

As  the  mother  did  not  speak  French  she  could  not 
join  in  our  conversation,  and  after  a  word  of  greeting 
she  remained  huddled  over  the  charcoal  stove  rolling 
her  interminable  cigarettes. 

Her  daughter  sat  on  the  sofa  beside  me,  her  eyes 


138  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

never  straying  from  my  face,  her  hands  clasped  in 
her  lap.  Only  the  even  tone  of  her  quiet  voice 
expressed  her  hopelessness  and  her  strongly  con- 
tained emotion.  She  was  shortly  to  be  married, 
and  it  was  with  a  shock  that  I  learned  that  this  girl, 
on  whom  a  European  education  had  been  lavished, 
had  never  even  seen  her  prospective  bridegroom 
except  once  from  her  window  as  he  passed  in  the  street 
below.  She  told  me  that  the  unveiling  of  a  bride's 
face  by  her  husband  is  one  of  the  ceremonies  of  mar- 
riage. "  Marriage  is  with  us  the  crowning  humilia- 
tion of  our  lives,"  she  passionately  declared. 

A  few  days  later  when  I  met  her  father  I  could  not 
resist  talking  to  him  of  his  daughter's  unhappiness. 
"  She  is  like  her  sister/'  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "  When 
I  went  to  see  her  the  morning  after  her  marriage 
I  found  her  with  her  head  in  her  hands  and  her  eyes 
red  with  weeping.  Not  very  cheerful  for  her  husband, 
was  it  ?  But  Aziyade  will  get  used  to  it.  They  all 
do." 

The  strangeness  of  the  Turkish  marriage  customs 
formed  a  continual  subject  of  wonderment  to  me 
during  my  stay  in  Constantinople,  perhaps  because 
I  so  often  heard  it  discussed  by  the  caged  daughters 
of  the  harems.  I  dined  once  at  the  house  of  a  palace 
official  called  Noury  Bey,  who  entertained  me  at 
dinner  by  telling  me  all  manner  of  indiscreet  stories 
about  his  own  domestic  affairs  and  his  country.  He 
told  me  that  his  mother  had  been  a  beautiful  Circassian, 
but  that  when  she  was  carried  off  at  an  early  age 
by  the  scourge  of  cholera  his  father  was  so  lonely 
that  he  married  three  wives  straight  away,  so  that 
his  little  boy  was  in  the  unenviable  position  of  having 
three  quarrelsome  stepmothers  at  one  time.  His 


CONSTANTINOPLE  139 

father  had  yet  other  wives  in  the  course  of  time  and 
buried  no  fewer  than  seven. 

I  still  remember  my  surprise  at  seeing  on  the  stairs 
of  this  house  a  life-sized  statue  of  a  Vestal  placed  in 
a  niche  in  the  wall.  The  statue,  doubtless  for  my 
benefit,  had  been  enveloped  in  the  voluminous  folds 
of  a  tchar chaff  (the  Turkish  woman's  street  garment), 
the  hood  of  which  was  discreetly  drawn  over  the  hair. 
A  yashmak  (the  thick  veil  used  to  cover  the  lower 
part  of  a  woman's  face)  concealed  the  features,  all 
but  the  eyes,  and  mittens  of  lace  covered  the  hands 
that  held  the  sacred  fire. 

One  gets  a  touch  of  the  old  splendour  of  the 
Ottoman  Caliphate  in  the  weekly  Salamlik  of 
Constantinople.  It  remains  in  my  mind  as  by  far 
the  most  interesting  sight  I  saw  in  the  Turkish 
capital. 

It  took  place  every  Friday  at  noon.  The  origin 
of  it  was  the  state  procession  of  the  Caliph,  the 
"  Defender  of  the  Faith,"  to  the  mosque  on  that  day 
of  the  week  appointed  and  set  apart  for  prayer  in 
common.  The  first  Caliphs  actually  led  the  prayers 
of  the  people  in  person  as  their  Imam,  but  the  practice 
was  gradually  abandoned,  and  when  the  heritage 
of  the  Caliphate  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Sultans 
of  Turkey  at  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  the  latter  dele- 
gated their  powers  as  hereditary  representatives  of 
the  Caliphs  to  a  deputy,  who  then,  as  now,  performed 
the  religious  functions  in  their  stead. 

On  ordinary  occasions  strangers  whose  respectability 
was  vouched  for  by  their  respective  Ambassadors 
were  allowed  to  watch  the  procession  to  and  from 
the  mosque.  They  assembled  on  the  terrace  adjoin- 
ing the  kiosk  reserved  for  the  foreign  Ambassadors 


140  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

and  their  staffs,  and  thence  got  an  excellent  view 
of  the  curious  pageant. 

Shortly  before  noon  the  quiet  reigning  near  the 
palace  gave  way  to  feverish  activity.  Two  of  the 
special  palace  guards  mounted  their  horses  and 
galloped  off  in  different  directions.  Their  business 
was  to  inform  the  commanding  officers  of  the  troops 
in  waiting  at  various  places  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  approaching  departure  of  the  Sultan's  pro- 
cession. The  mosque  stood  on  the  same  hill  on 
which  was  built  the  palace  of  Yildiz,  just  below  and 
immediately  facing  it. 

Simultaneously  with  the  disappearance  of  these 
mounted  messengers  appeared  a  number  of  small 
carts  full  of  yellow  sand,  which  was  rapidly  sprinkled 
over  the  road  which  the  Sultan  had  to  traverse. 
Military  music  now  broke  upon  the  ear  as  the  troops 
approached  from  all  quarters  and  took  up  positions 
lining  the  Imperial  route. 

First  came  the  Marines  in  splendid  uniforms,  carry- 
ing at  their  side,  in  addition  to  the  bayonet,  the  now 
obsolete  "  tomahawk."  Above  them  waved  the 
banner  of  the  Caliphate,  the  only  one  in  the  Army, 
a  black  flag  embroidered  in  silver,  bearing  an  inscrip- 
tion from  the  Koran.  At  the  top  of  its  staff  glittered 
the  star  of  the  Order  of  the  Mejidieh,  the  broad  red 
and  green  ribbon  of  the  Order  floating  from  it.  This 
decoration  was  conferred  upon  the  banner  by  Sultan 
Abdul  Aziz,  who  adopted  this  peculiar  method  of 
enhancing  the  prestige  of  the  flag. 

After  the  Marines  came  the  Albanians  of  the  Imperial 
Guard,  fine  fellows,  in  their  white  Zouave  uniforms, 
their  belts  stuck  full  of  small  arms  in  addition  to 
the  regulation  Mauser  rifle  carried  over  the  shoulder. 


CONSTANTINOPLE  141 

Conspicuous  among  these  small  arms  was  a  sword- 
bayonet  taking  the  place  of  the  yataghan,  a  formid- 
able weapon  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter,  without 
which  no  self-respecting  Albanian  may  be  seen. 

Behind  them  in  serried  lines,  four  deep,  the  Lancers 
took  up  their  position,  their  gay  pennons  floating  on 
the  breeze.  The  Lancers  were  divided  into  "  greys  " 
and  "  bays,"  according  to  the  colour  of  their  horses. 

Next  the  Arab  troops  called  for  attention,  more 
picturesque  perhaps  than  any  others — swarthy-com- 
plexioned  men  with  irregular  features,  hailing  straight 
from  Tripoli,  their  African  home.  The  blue  of  their 
Zouave  uniforms  was  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
green  of  the  turbans  which  encircled  their  heads. 

Following  close  upon  the  Imperial  troops  came 
the  Imperial  princes,  escorted  by  their  aides-de-camp 
and  orderlies  gorgeously  arrayed. 

Their  faces  powdered  until  they  looked  like  death- 
masks,  their  breasts  covered  with  jewelled  decora- 
tions, they  marched  on  foot  down  the  hill  from  the 
palace  to  the  mosque,  and  took  up  their  positions 
with  the  battalions  to  which  they  were  attached. 

Two  of  the  Sultan's  sons  attached  to  the  cavalry 
mounted  their  horses  and  stationed  themselves  opposite 
the  entrance  gate  to  the  mosque.  Another  son,  the 
favourite  Prince  Boonar-ed-deen,  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  line  of  Marines. 

The  ladies  of  the  Imperial  harem  and  daughters 
of  the  Sultan  next  appeared  in  a  succession  of  closed 
landaus,  but  of  them  little  could  be  seen  beyond 
occasionally  a  fan,  a  flashing  jewel,  a  white-gloved 
hand,  as  the  inmates  for  a  moment  pushed  aside  the 
down-drawn  carriage  blinds. 

Their  carriages,  drawn  by  splendid  Arab  horses, 


142  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

gold  caparisoned  with  tiger-skin  saddle-cloths,  were 
followed  on  foot,  each  by  three  of  those  hideous, 
thick-lipped,  sable-visaged,  frock-coated  giant  atten- 
dants who  guard  the  honour  of  every  princess  and 
lady  of  quality  born  under  the  iron  yoke  of  Mohammed. 

The  carriages  drew  up  in  line  within  the  iron  rail- 
ings of  the  mosque  enclosure,  and,  the  horses  being 
taken  out,  their  fair  occupants  were  left  to  see  as 
much  as  they  could  from  where  they  sat. 

But  this  brilliant  procession  was  not  yet  closed. 
A  long  line  of  pashas  next  emerged  from  the  palace 
gateway,  all  in  full-dress  uniform,  with  their  orders 
upon  their  breasts,  and  they  also  quickly  walked  down 
the  hill  to  the  mosque. 

They  were  the  marshals  and  generals  of  division, 
and  they  moved  to  their  appointed  position  in  line, 
on  the  right  of  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  Sultan's 
apartments  in  the  left  wing  of  the  mosque.  Among 
them  were  the  three  sons-in-law  of  the  Sultan. 

The  last  to  appear  were  the  numerous  Imperial 
servants — the  pipe-bearer,  the  caf6jee,  the  prayer- 
carpet  spreader,  the  chief  physician,  etc.  An  interval 
of  several  minutes  occurred  after  all  were  in  their 
places,  then  suddenly  the  silence  gave  way  to  a  great 
shouting  as  the  heralds  stood  forth  and,  in  a  loud 
voice,  proclaimed  the  near  approach  of  the  "  Lord 
of  Lords,"  the  "  Drinker  of  Blood,"  the  "  Conqueror," 
the  "  Lord  of  the  Four  Seas  and  Continents,"  the 
Sultan ! 

Another  moment  and  he  came  in  sight,  an  out- 
wardly feeble  old  man,  seated  in  an  open  carriage, 
wrapped  in  a  uniform  greatcoat,  the  sombreness  of 
which  was  relieved  only  by  the  long  row  of  orders 
glittering  on  his  breast.  His  head,  with  its  henna- 


CONSTANTINOPLE  143 

dyed  beard,  seemed  abnormally  large,  and  his  body 
appeared  shrunken. 

Could  this  be  the  Sultan,  the  dreaded  ruler  of  Turkey, 
the  despotic  Sovereign  who  for  years  had  known  how 
to  make  himself  feared,  the  man  whose  keen  wit  had 
played  off  the  ablest  diplomatists  in  Europe  one 
against  the  other  ?  As  he  was  driven  slowly  by, 
the  answer  came  from  the  well-drilled  troops :  "  Padis- 
hah chock  Pasha  !  "  (Long  life  to  the  Sultan  !),  and 
the  military  bands  triumphantly  proclaimed  in  the 
inspiring  music  of  the  "  Hamidieh  "  the  passing  of 
the  Imperial  ruler  of  Turkey. 

But  these  sounds  died  down  and  an  impressive 
silence  followed  as  he  reached  the  mosque.  As  he 
stepped  from  his  carriage  the  faint  voice  of  the  Imam 
reached  him  from  the  minaret  overhead,  admonishing 
him  in  the  time-honoured  words  to  abandon  all  pride  : 

"  Remember  that  with  all  thy  might  and  power, 
in  spite  of  all  this  bravery  and  show,  there  is  One 
greater  than  thou  art :  God  !  the  Most  High  !  " 

The  devotions  of  the  Sultan  did  not  last  long. 
Hardly  twenty  minutes  passed  before  he  appeared 
once  more.  The  landau  in  which  he  arrived  had 
meanwhile  been  exchanged  for  a  big  pair-horse  phaeton 
in  which  it  was  his  custom  to  drive  himself  slowly 
back  to  the  palace. 

As  he  passed  under  the  windows  of  the  balcony 
where  the  foreign  ambassadors  were  assembled,  he 
raised  his  white  gloved  hand  and,  with  a  long  look 
of  his  piercing  eyes,  leant  slightly  towards  them, 
giving  them  a  military  salute.  At  the  same  time  he 
bowed  to  the  ladies  who  were  with  them. 

His  Court  accompanied  him  on  the  return  journey, 
on  foot  as  they  had  come,  crowding  round  his  carriage, 


144  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  highest  in  rank  nearest  to  the  Imperial  person,  and 
as  they  pressed  one  upon  the  other,  half  walking, 
half  running  up  the  hill  to  keep  pace  with  the  horses, 
they  looked  as  if  they  were  actually  pushing  the  car- 
riage of  their  royal  master,  a  most  curious  effect. 

I  often  wondered  what  might  be  the  feelings  of 
the  feminine  subjects  of  the  Sultan  as  they  peeped 
through  the  closed  blinds  of  their  carriages  or  of  the 
harem  windows  of  the  houses  lining  the  route  along 
which  passed  the  gay  Salamlik  pageant,  in  which, 
because  of  their  sex,  they  could  take  no  part. 

A  Turkish  pasha  whom  I  knew  well  used  to  beg 
me  not  to  pry  too  closely  into  this  question  in  my 
conversations  with  Turkish  women.  "  Madame,"  he 
would  say,  "  believe  me,  it  would  not  be  kind  to 
speak  of  such  matters  to  our  daughters ;  it  would 
not  be  the  act  of  a  friend  to  awaken  in  them  the  idea 
that  they  are  unhappy  and  have  not  all  the  advantages 
that  you  have." 

How  wilfully  blind  was  he  in  not  realizing  that  he 
himself  and  others  like  him  caused  the  mischief  he 
would  have  imputed  to  me  by  educating  girls  up 
to  the  highest  standard  of  Western  learning  and  giving 
them,  in  addition,  free  access  to  European  literature 
of  all  kinds ! 

What,  after  that,  was  there  left  for  them  to  learn 
from  me  or  any  other  Western  woman  ?  They  were 
taught  to  be  connoisseurs  in  wine,  and  then  were 
forbidden  to  taste  it.  How  inconsistent ! 

Turkish  women,  even  those  who  receive  a  finished 
European  education,  remain  Oriental  at  heart.  I 
remember  being  much  struck  with  this  truth  one 
day  when  I  called  unexpectedly  to  see  Fathma  and 
Sadie,  two  friends  of  mine. 


SKETCH  OF  -MARGOT" 

By  Reggie  Lister 
(Only  'curio    saved  from  our  fire) 


CONSTANTINOPLE  145 

Up  to  that  time  I  had  known  them  as  two  of  the 
most  highly  cultivated  women  of  my  Turkish  acquaint- 
ance, whose  prettiness  was  well  set  off  by  the  dainti- 
ness of  the  European-furnished  boudoir  in  which*  they 
usually  received. 

But  to-day  the  haremlik  was  very  untidy.  Sadie 
was  lolling  on  a  divan  reading  a  French  novel,  whose 
title,  Levres  Closes,  I  caught  sight  of  as  it  fell  from 
her  hand.  Fathma  was  sucking  bonbons,  but  other- 
wise unoccupied.  She  had  no  stays  on,  and  was 
dressed  in  a  loose  wrapper.  Her  hair,  parted  in  the 
middle,  she  had  apparently  not  thought  it  worth  while 
to  do  up,  visitors  not  being  expected,  and  it  hung 
down  her  back  in  an  untidy  little  pig-tail. 

When  I  came  in  she  tried  unsuccessfully  to  roll 
it  up.  Her  hands,  I  noticed,  were  dirty  and  covered 
with  ink  stains.  While  I  sat  talking  to  them  dark- 
ness came  on  and  a  little  slave  girl  crept  in,  fetched 
a  lamp  from  a  bracket  on  the  wall,  took  it  to  pieces 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  filled  it  with  oil  from  a 
can  she  had  brought  with  her,  lighted  it,  and  replaced 
it — all  this  in  the  drawing-room  and  before  a  visitor ! 

This  little  slave  girl  was  clothed  in  a  pink  flannelette 
frock  which  reached  to  the  knee  and  gaped  at  the 
back  owing  to  its  having  shrunk  in  a  washing  it  had 
received  somewhere  in  the  Dark  Ages. 

The  slovenliness  and  sloth  of  Fathma  and  Sadie 
when  not  "  on  parade "  and  the  primitiveness  of 
their  domestic  arrangements  behind  the  scenes  seemed 
to  me  typical  of  the  civilization  of  their  country. 
"  Scratch  a  Turk  and  you  will  find  a  barbarian  " 
appeared  to  me  a  well-deserved  version  of  the  old  pro- 
verb. The  polish  of  the  Turk  I  felt  to  be  purely  super- 
ficial ;  beneath  it  were  the  elemental  passions  and 


146  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

the  primitive  simplicity  which  distinguished  the  race 
in  its  barbarous  beginnings. 

Nevertheless,  I  spent  much  of  my  time  in  Constan- 
tinople in  the  harems  of  Turkish  women,  for  they 
were  very  gentle  and  affectionate,  and  I  thought 
to  relieve  a  little  the  tedium  of  the  quasi-captivity 
in  which  they  lived.  Whether  I  had  been  wise  in 
so  doing  I  doubted  very  much  when,  shortly  after  I 
left  Constantinople,  I  received  the  following  pathetic 
little  letter  :— 

'  Yesterday,  dear  friend,  when  you  had  gone  and 
the  last  sad  farewells  had  been  spoken  between  us, 
I  felt  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  could  struggle 
no  longer  under  a  burden  of  such  crushing  hope- 
lessness. For  you  are  gone  now,  my  friend,  who 
alone  understood  me ;  you  are  gone,  leaving  my 
imagination  thrilled  with  fresh  longings  for  things 
for  ever  denied  me,  with  fresh  visions  of  scenes  and 
countries  to  me  for  ever  inaccessible — thanks  to 
the  inexorable  law  of  my  country,  so  beautiful  and 
yet  so  cruel,  which  has  decreed  that  we  Turkish  women 
shall  be  for  ever  slaves. 

"  Twenty  years  I  had  spent  in  my  father's  harem, 
twenty  years  I  had  idled  in  the  high-walled  garden 
that  enclosed  it,  knowing  nothing  of  life  but  what 
I  gathered  from  books ;  and  then  you  came,  and 
from  that  moment  all  was  changed. 

"I  sat  at  your  feet  and  I  listened  to  all  that  you 
had  to  tell  me  of  the  wonderful  West  and  the  women 
over  there.  I  learnt  to  appreciate  the  high  ideals 
that  animate  women  like  you.  Day  by  day  I  realized 
more  of  the  length  and  breadth  and  width  of  your 
lives  compared  to  the  stifling  limitations  of  ours. 

"  Now  I  am  no  longer  content  merely  to  read  and 


CONSTANTINOPLE  147 

hear  of  those  lives.  I  want  to  go  out  and  live  as  you 
do.  I  want  to  be  free,  as  you  are  free.  I  want  to 
be  loved  and  loving  as  you  are.  Oh,  why  did  Fate 
make  of  me  a  Turkish  captive  debarred  from  all  that 
makes  life  worth  living  ?  ' 

This  letter,  as  may  be  imagined,  made  me  very 
unhappy,  for  it  made  it  quite  clear  that  I  had  done 
the  very  thing  which  my  pasha  friend  had  warned 
me  against.  I  had  opened  a  door,  the  threshold  of 
which  might  never  be  overstepped,  alluring  as  was 
the  prospect  beyond. 

I  wrote  a  few  words  in  answer.  "  Take  courage, 
my  poor  little  captive,"  I  urged.  "  The  law  of  com- 
pensation exists  all  the  world  over,  in  a  Turkish 
haremlik  as  in  an  English  village,  and  liberty  does 
not  always  spell  happiness.  Unfettered  freedom  of 
action,  unhindered  intercourse  between  men  and 
women,  often  bring  us  in  the  West  face  to  face  with 
impossible  situations  and  irreducible  problems  from 
which  you  in  your  harems  are  safe  !  " 

But  even  as  I  penned  the  trite  words,  I  felt  what 
cold  comfort  was  in  them  ! 

Our  stay  in  Constantinople  was  cut  short  by  a 
terrible  disaster  which  befell  us  on  February  2.  Our 
house  with  all  its  treasured  collection  of  souvenirs 
from  many  lands  was  burned  to  the  ground  in  two 
hours.  My  husband  was  at  the  Embassy,  two  miles 
away,  at  the  time,  but  I  was  in  bed,  having  been 
ill,  and  was  just  thinking  of  getting  up. 

I  dozed  with  my  little  dog  at  my  side  when  suddenly 
I  was  roused  by  a  curious  kind  of  crackling  noise  in 
the  wall.  I  jumped  up  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  there  I  saw  smoke  puffing  out  between  the  eaves 


148  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

and  the  roof.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  "  f  a  y  est !  " 
I  rushed  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  give  the  alarm, 
shouting,  "  Fire !  "  By  this  time  my  bedroom  was 
alight,  a  shower  of  burning  plaster  falling  like  coloured 
snow  from  the  ceiling. 

The  Greek  footman  was  the  first  to  answer  my 
call,  but  when  he  saw  the  ceiling  in  flames  he  threw 
up  his  hands  and  ran  for  dear  life,  screaming  like  an 
hysterical  woman.  He  was  followed  by  all  the  other 
Turkish  servants.  They  served  the  one  useful  purpose 
of  giving  the  alarm. 

Meanwhile,  I  calculated  that  I  had  about  three 
minutes  in  which  to  save  what  I  could.  I  tore  the 
sheet  from  my  bed,  spread  it  on  the  floor  and  piled 
my  jewels  and  furs  on  it.  I  shoved  my  arms  into 
a  coat,  gathered  up  the  four  corners  of  the  sheet  and 
flung  the  bundle  over  my  shoulder,  and  then,  bare- 
footed and  bare-headed,  with  my  little  dog  in  my 
arms,  I  escaped.  As  I  passed  down  the  stairs  the 
great  chandelier  fell  in  flames  from  the  roof  of  the 
hall,  setting  fire  to  the  rest  of  the  house. 

Downstairs  I  found  a  howling  mob,  but  I  pushed 
my  way  through  them  out  of  the  house  into  the  harem 
of  the  Turkish  house  opposite,  where  I  put  on  some 
shoes  I  had  managed  to  save.  Still  in  my  "  nighty," 
with  my  hair  flying  anyhow,  I  was  for  making  my 
way  to  the  German  Embassy,  our  nearest  "  white  " 
neighbours,  when  I  received  a  delicate  parting  atten- 
tion from  the  firemen  in  the  shape  of  a  jet  of  water 
from  their  hose,  which  caught  me  full  on  the  head 
and  wetted  me  through. 

In  this  condition,  terrified  and  exhausted  by  my 
awful  experience,  I  staggered  on  to  the  German 
Embassy,  where  the  Ambassadress  most  kindly 


CONSTANTINOPLE  149 

received  me,  lending  me  clothes  from  her  own  ward- 
robe, which  I  wore  for  a  week  afterwards,  as  nothing 
of  mine  was  saved. 

It  was  a  horrid  experience,  but  there  was  an  element 
of  humour  even  in  such  a  dire  calamity,  which  was 
afforded  by  the  conduct  of  the  sailors  belonging  to 
the  German  Stationnaire  in  the  port,  who,  coming  up 
to  assist  in  salving  our  possessions,  found  a  framed 
photograph  of  the  ex-Kaiser  in  my  room. 

This  they  reverently  took  charge  of  and,  regardless 
of  the  fact  that  meanwhile  our  house  was  burning, 
they  formed  up  a  little  party  of  six  and  solemnly 
goose-stepped  off  to  the  German  Embassy.  There, 
after  being  admitted  by  the  kavass  to  the  presence 
of  Herr  Marschall  von  Bieberstein  (the  same  man 
who  was  afterwards  appointed  Ambassador  to  London 
but  died  before  taking  up  his  post),  they  solemnly 
handed  over  to  him  the  portrait  of  "  Unser  Kaiser  !  ' 

On  their  return  to  our  house  they  found  time  to 
save  the  Encyclopedia  Bntannica — in  thirty-six 
volumes  ! — which  they  flung  out  of  the  window  into 
the  garden,  but  of  our  beautiful  Chinese  and  Japanese 
collections  nothing  escaped,  alas ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 
IN  THE  HOLY  LAND 

A  tour  through  the  Holy  Land — Wonders  of  the  Holy  City — A 
caravan  journey  to  Damascus — Pilgrims  returning  from  Mecca 
— How  the  Kaiser  looted  Palestine. 

HAVING  now  no  home  and  no  possessions,  we 
were  free  to  do  as  we  pleased,  and  we  de- 
termined to  visit  the  Holy  Land. 

We  took  ship  at  Port  Said  one  lovely  April  day  in 
1905,  our  destination  being  Jaffa,  where  we  lay  at 
anchor  for  some  time  until  a  surf  boat  came  alongside 
to  take  us  off. 

Our  transfer  from  ship  to  boat  was  not  a  pleasant 
experience.  Before  I  was  aware  of  their  intention, 
and  without  any  "  by  your  leave,"  I  was  seized  in 
the  stalwart  arms  of  two  strong  Jaffaites  and  deposited 
like  a  bundle  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  as  it  rose 
on  the  crest  of  a  wave  to  an  altitude  convenient  for 
the  operation. 

I  was  too  seasick  at  the  moment  to  feel  any  active 
resentment.  Besides,  I  learnt  afterwards  that  neces- 
sity, which  stands  not  on  ceremony,  was  the  motive 
which  spurred  them  to  action  at  this  juncture,  and 
later  when  I  heard  the  horrifying  tale  of  how  the  day 
before  a  party  of  eleven  were  capsized  and  all  their 
luggage  lost  in  the  sea  as  they  went  through  the 

150 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  151 

same  experience,  I  even  felt  something  akin  to 
gratitude  for  our  superior  luck. 

The  British  Consul  came  to  meet  us  and,  handing 
over  the  care  of  our  luggage  to  his  native  servants, 
we  accompanied  him  on  foot  through  the  labyrinthine 
streets  to  his  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
where,  in  the  cool  shade  of  his  lovely  garden,  we  waited 
for  the  evening  train  to  Jerusalem. 

Just  after  sunset  on  a  bitterly  cold  evening  we 
entered  the  Holy  City  and  asked  hospitality  of  the 
Franciscan  monks  in  Casa  Nova,  their  monastery. 
Here  we  were  most  kindly  received  and  enter- 
tained for  a  week,  no  bill  being  presented  when  we 
left. 

It  was  a  marvellous  sight  to  see  all  religions  and 
sects  fighting  for  standing  room  round  the  sepulchre 
of  Our  Lord.  Though  some  people  profess  to  be 
shocked  at  this  sight,  to  me  it  was  but  a  touching 
proof  of  the  universal  belief  in  the  Divinity  of  the 
Man  Christ,  Who  once  lay  within.  That  many  dis- 
putes occur  between  rival  forms  of  religion  is  after 
all  proof  of  the  jealous  love  of  each  for  the  common 
Lord.  Men  are  subject  here,  as  elsewhere,  to  the 
weaknesses  and  even  smallnesses  inherent  in  human 
nature.  Nevertheless,  the  atmosphere  in  Jerusalem 
is  one  of  reverence  and  of  a  common  desire  to 
honour  the  holy  places  connected  with  the  life  and 
death  of  Christ. 

Steeped  as  one  was  in  the  religious  atmosphere  of 
these  scenes,  it  was  almost  a  necessity  at  times  to 
turn  to  others  of  a  mundane  character.  Thus  we 
visited  every  hole  and  corner  of  the  city,  which, 
apart  from  the  religious  sentiment  inseparably  con- 
nected with  it,  is  of  the  greatest  ethnological  interest 


152  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

on  account  of  the  extraordinary  number  and  variety 
of  types  to  be  met  with  in  the  streets. 

Jews,  Armenians,  Copts,  Arabs,  Russians,  Greeks, 
Syrians,  Abyssinians,  Turks,  and  Indians  jostle  each 
other  in  bewildering  variety  of  garb  and  head-dress. 
Yet  all  have  their  marked  characteristics  by  which 
you  may  come  to  know  them  in  time. 

We  visited  the  Wailing  Place  of  the  Jews,  where 
they  come  weekly  to  lament  over  the  lost  greatness 
of  Jerusalem,  knocking  their  heads  against  a  wall, 
the  last  fragment  of  the  great  Temple  of  Solomon. 
This  is  a  very  ancient  custom,  but  it  seems  almost 
unbelievable  that  men  should  find  time  to  remain 
faithful  to  its  observance  in  this  busy  practical  twentieth 
century. 

The  two  most  interesting  buildings  in  Jerusalem  are 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  the  Mosque  of 
Omar.  The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  is  to  the 
Christians  one  of  the  holiest  spots  on  earth,  for  it 
was  erected  by  the  Emperor  Constantine  on  what 
was  said  to  be  the  actual  site  of  the  burial-place  of 
Our  Lord. 

The  approach  to  the  church  is  down  one  of  the 
narrowest  and  steepest  of  Jerusalem's  streets,  and 
the  way  is  lined  by  beggars  sitting  against  the  walls 
on  either  side  who,  exposing  their  infirmities,  implore 
the  charity  of  the  passer-by.  The  great  square 
court-yard  outside  it  is  constantly  crowded  with 
pilgrims  and  street  vendors. 

Inside  the  sanctuary  we  were  startled  to  find  our- 
selves face  to  face  with  a  Turkish  guard  of  soldiers 
in  uniform.  In  old  days  they  were  there  to  collect 
the  Sultan's  tax,  but  now  their  duties  are  purely 
nominal,  and  they  sit  on  their  heels  just  inside  the 


WAILING  JEWS  AT   1HE  WALL  OF   JERUSALEM 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  153 

door  and  spit  and  smoke  and  gaze  at  the  thousands 
of  Christian  worshippers  who  daily  pass  in  and  out  of 
the  sacred  edifice. 

We  had  hired  a  caravan  and  tents  to  ride  through 
Samaria  and  Galilee  to  Damascus,  equipped  with 
most  comfortable  camp  furniture,  our  service  being 
provided  for  by  a  number  of  followers  headed  by  one 
Halil,  who  in  the  weeks  to  come  was  to  prove  him- 
self not  only  a  good  servant  but  also  a  most  enter- 
taining guide. 

All  the  curious  folk  in  Jerusalem  turned  out  to 
see  our  start,  for  the  fact  that  we  had  engaged  the 
same  tents,  guide  and  followers  as  had  the  Emperor 
William  II  a  few  years  before,  lent  considerable  prestige 
to  our  expedition. 

The  first  night  we  pitched  our  tents  at  a  place 
called  Singil,  where  the  children  were  so  rude  and 
offensive  that  they  reminded  me  of  those  others  in 
the  Bible  who  followed  Elisha,  mocking  him  and 
crying,  "  Go  up,  thou  bald  head !  "  We  caught  one 
of  them  and  administered  exemplary  punishment  as 
a  warning  to  the  others.  Then,  walking  through 
olive  groves  dating  back  to  Roman  times,  we  came 
to  Nablus. 

The  ancient  paved  streets,  to  which  the  sunlight 
seldom,  if  ever,  penetrates,  were  lined  with  small 
shops  and  peopled  by  a  motley  crowd  of  Arabs,  less 
beautiful  than  those  of  Singil  but  still  most  picturesque, 
in  their  tattered  and  dirty  garments.  As  Halil  said, 
"  They  never  wash  except  by  mistake,  (when  the  rain 
of  heaven  wets  their  cheeks !  " 

The  next  day  we  rode  on  to  Samaria,  through 
very  fertile  country,  under  the  shade  of  olive  and 
fig  trees.  Pretty  girls  washing  at  the  wells  or  marching 


154  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

along  with  water- jars  on  their  heads  and  that  swinging 
gait  so  peculiar  to  women  of  their  race,  paused  to 
look  curiously  after  us. 

We  pitched  our  luncheon  camp  close  to  where  a 
party  were  at  work  and  I  talked  to  some  of  them, 
Halil  acting  as  interpreter.  I  took  a  small  hand- 
glass from  my  bag  and,  to  their  delight,  showed  them 
their  reflections  in  it. 

Passing  Dothan,  where  Joseph  was  sold  by  his 
brethren,  we  entered  a  long  marshy  valley,  our  camp 
being  pitched  that  night  at  "  Jennin,  on  the  border 
of  Issachar,  in  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon." 

Next  morning,  we  saw  a  number  of  poor  Turkish 
peasants  being  sent  off  as  recruits  to  the  army  in 
the  Yemen. 

To  prevent  their  escape,  some  of  them  were  hand- 
cuffed to  older  soldiers.  Their  relatives  hung  about 
bidding  them  farewell.  There  were  most  harrowing 
scenes,  especially  on  the  part  of  the  weeping  wives, 
who  were  left  with  their  children  utterly  destitute 
in  cases  where  the  field-labourer,  the  support  of  the 
family,  was  taken  from  them. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  picture  they  made,  sitting 
like  crows  in  a  row  by  the  wayside,  hiding  their  heads 
in  the  folds  of  their  yashmaks  and  wailing  loudly 
as  their  handcuffed  relatives  were  marched  away 
before  them. 

The  long  and  stony  climb  to  the  village  of  Nazareth 
I  would  have  enjoyed  more,  for  the  view  from  the 
ascending  mountain  path  was  wide  and  beautiful, 
had  I  not  felt  so  ill  and  feverish. 

By  the  evening  I  was  so  ill  that  I  had  to  take  to 
my  camp-bed.  Halil  went  off  to  find  a  missionary 
doctor,  who  presently  arrived.  His  coming  was 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  155 

quite  dans  la  note  of  this  holy  place.  For  he  was 
a  monk  in  a  white  habit,  and  he  ambled  into  the  camp 
astride  an  ass. 

As  he  neared  my  tent,  the  animal  took  fright  at 
something  and  shied  violently,  landing  the  venerable 
padre  on  his  back  at  our  feet.  Luckily,  he  was  not 
hurt.  He  diagnosed  my  case  as  one  of  sunstroke 
and  malarial  chill. 

As  soon  as  he  heard  the  nature  of  my  malady,  Halil 
declared  himself  ready  to  prescribe.  He  requested 
permission  to  sprinkle  my  head  with  cold  water. 
"  For,"  he  declared,  "  there  where  the  sun  has  hit 
your  head  the  water  will  bubble  and  boil,  and  when 
once  we  have  in  that  way  located  the  spot  the  cure 
is  easy.  Cold  wet  compresses  will  do  the  rest !  " 

I  took  the  padre's  medicine,  but  I  was  so  anxious 
for  relief  from  the  terrible  pain  I  was  suffering  that 
I  accepted  HaliFs  ministrations  also.  But  neither 
he  nor  the  missionary  cured  me  effectually,  and  it 
was  several  days  before  it  was  possible  for  us  to  con- 
tinue our  journey. 

Our  next  move  was  to  Cana,  where,  as  in  Nazareth, 
the  people  are  extraordinarily  good-looking.  Thence 
next  day  we  set  out  for  Tiberias. 

On  our  way  we  photographed  a  Bedouin  camp, 
and  later  some  Greek  priest-pilgrims  journeying  to 
Tiberias.  We  met  many  Christian  Syrian  pilgrims 
going  to  Jerusalem  for  the  Easter  festival.  Some 
travelled  on  camels ;  others  we  met  were  seated  on 
an  inverted  kitchen-table  fixed  to  a  camel's  back ! 

A  group  of  women  going  to  harvest  came  marching 
along  with  a  swinging  stride,  one  of  them  balancing 
on  her  head  her  child  in  its  wooden  cradle. 

Another  family  party,  whom  we  saluted  as  we  passed, 


156  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

looked  very  tired,  having  evidently  come  from  a 
great  distance.  The  father  led  a  pack  mule,  upon 
whose  back  were  slung  two  wine  cases,  in  each  of 
which  slept  a  child.  The  footsore  mother  lagged 
behind,  a  third  one  in  her  arms. 

Riding  on,  Halil  pointed  out  to  us  the  Horns  of 
Hattin  and  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes,  where  Christ 
preached  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  From  this 
point  we  began  to  ride  downhill  to  Tiberias,  which 
is  626  feet  below  sea  level.  We  skirted  the  edge  of 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  for  some  way,  and  then  pitched  our 
camp  close  to  the  water's  edge,  with  only  the  high- 
road between  it  and  us. 

Pere  Guillaume,  a  French  missionary  priest,  whom 
we  visited,  told  us  that  the  Jews  were  busy  that  day 
washing  up  their  houses  and  selves  for  the  festival 
of  the  Pesach  (the  Passover)  ;  we  afterwards  saw 
them  washing  every  conceivable  household  article  in 
the  river.  Their  dress  was  very  quaint.  Some  of 
the  women  wore  velveteens  to  do  their  washing, 
and  the  men  billycock  hats  and  side  ringlets. 

We  went  for  a  moonlight  row  on  the  sea.  The 
boat  boy  sang  a  melodious  chant,  which  Halil  trans- 
lated for  me : 

"  O  God,  the  night  is  dark — where  is  my  Beloved  ? 
His  loss  is  worse  to  me  than  blindness. 
They  said  to  me,  '  We  will  bring  Thy  Loved  One  back ' ; 
But  still  He  cometh  not  to  me. 
O  God,  Who  art  the  God  of  Love, 
Keep  not  my  Loved  One  from  me, 
Give  back  to  me  my  Lover,  although  Thou  take  mine  eyes." 

After  bathing  in  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  we  rowed  across 
to  Capernaum,  where  we  were  met  by  our  horses. 
Passing  out  of  the  valley  we  had  a  bad  road  to 


STREET  SCENE  IN   JERUSALEM  DOORWAY  OF 

THE  CHURCH  OB    THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE 
JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM,  1905 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  157 

negotiate  going  up  the  hill  to  Bethsaida,  and  the 
mountain  on  which  Christ  fed  the  five  thousand 
(Luke  ix-x). 

We  lunched  in  a  rocky  pass  covered  with  exquisite 
wild  flowers,  and  pillowing  our  heads  on  our  saddles 
we  slept  under  the  shade  of  some  olive  trees  till  the 
cool  of  the  evening. 

Then  we  rode  on  past  the  three  Rothschild  Jewish 
colonies  set  in  a  glorious  flowered  plain,  until,  passing 
through  a  wonderful  valley  between  two  hills,  we  came 
suddenly  upon  the  Bridge  of  the  Daughters  of  Jacob. 
There  we  found  a  guard  sent  to  meet  us  by  a  Turkish 
governor.  To  display  their  zest  they  spent  the  night 
round  about  our  tents,  letting  off  revolvers  at  imaginary 
thieves.  It  was  a  lovely  camping-ground  we  occupied 
that  night  in  a  field  by  the  side  of  the  old  bridge 
built  by  the  Romans  to  span  the  Jordan,  which  here 
became  a  torrent. 

We  rode  that  morning  through  an  entrancing 
flower  country,  over  a  Persian  carpet  (I  can  use  no 
other  word  for  it)  of  wild  blossoms  almost  reaching 
to  the  girths  of  our  horses.  And  they  were  not  delicate 
little  blossoms  as  are  those  of  our  fields,  but  large, 
waxy  blooms  like  begonias,  of  yellow,  red,  and  all 
the  pastel  tints.  I  shall  never  forget  the  beauty  of  it. 

Anon  we  passed  the  deserted  pest-stricken  village 
of  Imhaffa  where  the  dead  cattle  stank  insufferably. 
Vultures  hovered  everywhere  or  sat  gorged  in  ghastly 
rows,  every  now  and  then  sweeping  down  afresh 
upon  their  hideous  prey.  The  villagers,  who  are 
Turcomans,  had  fled  the  stricken  spot.  They  were 
out  under  canvas  miles  away,  and  would  not  return 
until  winter  frosts  improved  the  atmosphere. 

We  hurried  on,  and  once  clear  of  this  nightmare 


158  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

neighbourhood  stopped  to  lunch  in  an  oasis  of  green, 
set  down  as  a  jewel  in  the  midst  of  a  stony  plain. 

A  further  short  ride  brought  us  to  Kuneitra,  where 
we  pitched  our  camp  for  the  night  on  an  open  plain 
of  smooth,  green  grass,  almost  like  an  English  lawn.  A 
land  of  contrasts  is  this  Holy  Land ! 

We  were  glad  to  make  a  start  again  early  next 
morning.  At  first  we  rode  along  a  newly  metalled 
high-road,  or  what  appeared  to  be  newly  metalled, 
but  the  grass  growing  between  the  stones  soon  unde- 
ceived us. 

Halil,  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  country  we  were 
riding  over,  as  also  all  the  gossip  connected  with  it, 
told  us  that  the  combination  of  metal  and  green  grass 
on  the  same  road  testified  to  the  fact  that  the 
bridges  over  the  water-courses  that  frequently  inter- 
sected it  had  never  been  built,  the  money  voted 
for  them  having  been  empoche  (pocketed)  by  those 
charged  with  their  construction.  The  road  was  con- 
sequently unusable,  and  we  had  to  make  our  way  as 
best  we  could  over  the  fields  bordering  it,  scrambling 
over  the  water-courses  wherever  a  possible  place  pre- 
sented itself. 

The  result  was  that  soon  after  leaving  El  Kuneitra 
we  took  a  wrong  bridle-path  and  had  to  be  set  right 
by  a  passing  native.  Our  way  lay  across  a  stony 
plain,  keeping  the  snowy  range  of  Mount  Hebron 
on  our  left.  We  had  left  the  smiling  flower-carpeted 
regions  of  yesterday. 

The  rocky  boulders  which  encumbered  our  path 
impeded  us  at  every  turn,  and  presently  alternated 
with  extensive  marshes  and  deep  fords,  through 
which  our  horses  struggled  wearily  up  to  their  girths 
in  the  muddy,  malodorous  water. 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  159 

Emerging  from  one  of  these  marshes,  we  vainly 
sought  the  continuation  of  the  path  we  had  previously 
followed.  Fortunately,  just  at  the  moment  when, 
failing  after  diligent  search  to  recover  the  lost  trail, 
Halil  was  beginning  to  look  worried,  we  espied  in 
the  distance  a  little  body  of  cavalry  evidently  on  the 
look  out  for  our  party. 

Tidings  of  a  "great  man's"  progress  through 
the  country  travels  with  mysterious  rapidity  in  the 
primitive  East,  and  news  of  our  approaching  arrival 
at  Damascus  had  somehow  preceded  us.  Thus  it 
was  that  a  party  of  soldiers  had  been  sent  off  with 
orders  to  find  us  and  bring  us  into  the  town. 

Halil,  our  guide,  whose  pride  was  touched,  declared 
he  did  not  need  their  services,  but  they  flatly  declined 
to  leave  us.  The  country,  they  said,  was  unsafe  for 
travellers — it  was  infested  by  brigands.  The  way 
was  lonely ;  besides,  we  should  be  unable  to  find  it 
without  assistance  from  local  guides,  for,  bad  as  it 
was  where  we  had  come  to,  it  would  shortly  be  ten 
times  more  rocky  and  marshy  !  The  Turkish  Govern- 
ment would  hold  them  responsible  for  our  safety, 
and  that  seemed  to  clinch  the  argument.  Escort  us 
they  would. 

So  we  yielded,  and  started  again,  the  picturesqueness 
of  our  cavalcade  greatly  enhanced  by  their  company. 

Two  zaptiehs  (gendarmes)  led  the  way  with  unerring 
instinct  over  those  apparently  trackless  wastes,  and 
three  brought  up  the  rear,  one  of  whom  rode  a  mare 
with  a  foal  at  heel. 

Suddenly  the  zaptieh  riding  ahead  dug  his  spurs 
into  his  horse's  flanks  and  dashed  forward  at  a  gallop. 
I  thought  this  pointed  to  some  danger  hidden  from 
us,  which  his  keen  eyes  had  detected.  But  no ! 

L 


160  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

He  stopped  as  suddenly  as  he  had  started,  and  dis- 
mounting by  a  rock,  in  a  depression  of  which  was 
a  puddle  of  stagnant  rain-water,  called  his  com- 
panions to  him,  and  together  they  performed  the 
prescribed  ablutions  before  their  noon-tide  devotions. 
We  reined  up  and  waited. 

Having  washed  and  removed  the  shoes  from  their 
feet,  they  turned  their  faces  towards  Mecca,  and 
then  with  bent  head  and  clasped  hands  prayed  aloud, 
and  on  the  stillness  of  that  desolate  scene  their  voices 
rang  out  in  the  time-honoured  chant :  "  Allah  il 
Allah  !  " 

On,  on,  we  rode.  The  grandeur  of  that  ride  I  would 
not  have  missed.  I  have  never  seen  it  equalled  in  any 
part  of  the  world. 

The  solitude  was  appalling,  and  the  silence  could 
be  felt.  At  one  of  the  fords  we  had  to  wade  through, 
three  of  the  baggage  mules  stuck  in  the  treacherous 
bog,  and  one  in  trying  to  extricate  himself  fell  and 
was  cut  severely  on  the  hind-quarters. 

Oh,  how  tired  I  was — tired  of  this  trackless,  stony 
waste,  tired  of  the  cold  frown  of  snowy  Mount  Hermon 
gazing  pitilessly  down  at  the  human  worms  crawling 
along  at  her  feet,  tired  of  the  laziness  of  my  poor 
horse,  who  continuously  stumbled  as  he  picked  his 
way  between  slippery  rocks ! 

At  last  we  came  within  sight  of  Sassa.  Never 
was  vision  of  enchanted  castle  more  welcome  to 
the  eyes  of  Fairy  Prince  than  was  poor  Sassa  to  me, 
with  its  small  mud-houses  and  its  few  score  of  trees. 
Another  quarter  of  a  mile,  through  another  deep 
ford,  and  at  last  we  reached  the  haven  of  our  camp, 
which  had  been  sent  ahead,  and  was  pitched  ready  to 
welcome  us  just  beyond  the  village. 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  161 

A  further  day's  ride  was  before  us  across  the  vast 
plain  in  which  Damascus  lies  enshrined,  an  emerald 
in  a  sea  of  sand. 

When  on  the  following  morning  we  looked  out 
from  Sassa  towards  our  promised  goal  we  fancied 
we  could  almost  see  it,  so  pellucid  was  the  atmo- 
sphere, so  flat  the  plain  dividing  us  from  it.  On 
coming  out  of  our  tents,  we  found  a  fresh  posse  of 
men  sent  out  to  meet  us  and  escort  us  into  the  city. 
So  we  started  again  under  the  guardianship  of  these 
new  men  mounted  on  shaggy  little  ponies.  With 
their  variegated  attire  and  antiquated  fire-arms,  they 
looked  fierce  enough  to  inspire  terror  in  the  heart 
of  the  stoutest  stage  brigand ! 

The  going  was  decidedly  better  that  day,  and  we 
were  able  to  cover  the  ground  quickly. 

Eyes  and  nose  were  again  offended  by  dead  carrion 
on  which  dogs  were  busy,  while  the  ubiquitous  vulture 
hovered  near. 

We  lunched  in  a  delicious  grove  of  olives,  under 
whose  grateful  shade  we  slept  during  the  hottest 
part  of  the  day.  Then  into  the  saddle  again  and 
forward  once  more  towards  that  white  city,  now  so 
plainly  visible,  yet  apparently  always  receding— 
Damascus,  the  Mecca  of  our  long  ride. 

We  reached  it  at  last,  but  oh,  misery !  the  first 
sight  of  it  was  disappointing,  as  usual !  Much  as 
I  have  travelled  in  every  country  of  the  world,  I  have 
never  yet  known  a  place  come  up  to  my  imagined 
picture  of  it. 

The  approach  to  this  ancient  city  (how  many 
soldiers  of  our  gallant  Mesopotamian  army  will 
recognize  my  description  of  Damascus,  I  wonder  ?) 
led  us  along  a  road  bordered  on  each  side  by  glades 


i6a  -  INDISCRETIONS ' 

of  forest  trees  spreading  over  carpets  of  flowers  and 
grass.  It  was  a  restful  and  refreshing  sight  after 
the  glare  of  the  endless  plain  outside.  In  these  same 
woods  many  men  of  the  city  were  at  work  rope- 
making  under  the  trees,  and  their  gay  garments  as 
they  moved  to  and  fro  lent  just  that  note  of  colour 
which  was  otherwise  lacking. 

We  alighted  at  the  "  Hotel  Victoria,"  a  common- 
place, Europeanized  inn,  and  regretfully  stood  by 
and  watched  as,  for  the  last  time,  Halil  unsaddled 
our  faithful  steeds.  Then  came  the  pang  which 
all  travellers  have  experienced,  when  the  words  of 
farewell  must  be  spoken  to  those  who  have  served  one 
so  well. 

We  were  out  betimes  next  morning  to  see  the 
procession  of  pilgrims  returning  with  the  Sacred 
Carpet  from  Mecca.  It  was  a  unique  chance  which 
had  brought  us  to  Damascus  just  in  time  for  this 
curious  procession,  which,  of  course,  is  to  be  seen 
only  twice  a  year — on  the  departure  and  return  of 
the  pilgrimage.  We  forged  our  way  in  carriages 
through  a  dense  crowd  of  natives,  who,  in  every  colour 
and  form  of  garment,  entirely  unpoliced,  peaceably 
filled  every  nook  and  corner,  every  coign  of  vantage 
of  the  narrow  and  tortuous  streets  through  which 
the  procession  was  to  pass. 

Wherever  the  eye  rested,  it  met  the  gaze  of  eager 
sightseers  patiently  and  cheerfully  waiting.  On  the 
flat  roofs  they  squatted  in  thousands ;  every  window 
was  well  filled,  and  every  balcony,  the  ascent  and 
descent  to  and  from  which  was  accomplished  by 
means  of  ladders  hired  out  by  enterprising  street 
arabs. 

Our  horses,  fine,  high-spirited  little  Arabs,  kicked 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  163 

and  plunged,  terrified  by  the  noise  and  bustle,  and 
every  moment  I  expected  an  accident,  for  even  under 
normal  conditions  the  streets  of  Damascus,  like  the 
bazaars  of  old  Cairo,  are  barely  wide  enough  to  allow 
of  two  carriages  driving  abreast. 

At  last  it  came  !  One  of  our  horses  shied,  kicked 
over  the  pole,  and  in  trying  to  free  himself  got  his 
leg  caught  in  the  harness  and  fell,  dragging  the  other 
one  with  him. 

Then  followed  pandemonium — crowds  scattering, 
women  shrieking,  horses  kicking — until  finally,  the 
driver  and  kavass  having  dexterously  freed  the  poor 
beasts  and  helped  them  to  their  feet,  I  was  politely 
invited  to  resume  my  seat  in  the  carriage.  But 
it  seemed  to  me  we  could  go  no  farther  without 
imminent  risk  to  the  heedless  population,  so  we 
obtained  permission  to  pass  through  an  inner  court 
to  the  flat  roof  of  a  house,  already  thickly  peopled 
with  Arabic  women  and  children. 

With  the  courtesy  that  is  inborn  in  them,  they 
pushed  us  into  the  best  and  foremost  places  for 
seeing,  and  thus  we  had  an  excellent  view  of  the 
procession. 

It  was  an  interesting  study  to  see  this  crowd  of 
dejected,  weary,  bedraggled,  sun-blackened  pilgrims 
mounted  on  camels  whose  shaggy  coats  had  grown 
ragged  and  patchy.  They  sat  in  every  conceivable 
attitude  that  would  ease,  I  suppose,  their  tired  limbs. 
Fatigue,  deadly,  hopeless  fatigue,  was  written  in 
every  line  of  their  faces  and  bodies ;  I  never  saw 
fatigue  personified  till  I  had  looked  upon  those 
pilgrims. 

A  military  escort  who  had  accompanied  the  pro- 
cession all  the  way  looked  as  sun-baked  and  exhausted 


164  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

as  the  other  victims  of  this  terrible  arduous  trek 
across  the  desert  to  Mecca.  The  Sacred  Carpet  was, 
of  course,  the  centre  of  interest  to  the  waiting  crowd. 
It  travelled  under  a  magnificent  catafalque,  covered 
with  cloth-of-gold,  and  was  guarded  by  an  escort 
of  soldiers  who  pressed  close  around  it. 

Preceding  it  was  the  covered  conveyance  which 
had  contained  the  presents  sent  from  Damascus 
to  the  Holy  City,  and  following  it  rode  the  Sheikh 
Ul  Islam  in  full  priestly  robes  of  bright  green  and 
white  turban. 

The  Governors  of  Damascus,  both  civil  and  military, 
and  all  the  soldiers  stationed  in  the  city,  together 
with  the  sheikh  of  that  place,  had  gone  out,  mounted, 
to  meet  and  receive  the  procession.  They  now 
returned  with  it,  some  of  them  riding  beautiful  Arab 
horses. 

The  Sacred  Carpet  was  taken  to  the  military  Serai, 
and  there  in  the  presence  of  the  thousands  who 
pressed  forward  and  reverently  kissed  it,  it  was 
deposited  for  safe-keeping  in  the  custody  of  the 
governor,  who  is  responsible  for  it  until  next  year, 
when  it  emerges  once  more  for  its  annual  pilgrimage. 
Its  mission  on  arrival  at  Mecca  is  to  cover  the  Kahaba 
or  sacred  stone. 

The  bazaars  of  Damascus  are  perhaps  its  most 
attractive  feature,  its  monuments  being  few,  and 
more  or  less  devoid  of  interest. 

We  visited,  of  course,  the  huge  new  mosque  rebuilt 
on  the  site  of  the  one  far  more  beautiful,  no  doubt, 
and  containing  exquisite  things  in  the  way  of  old 
tiles,  which  was  burnt  down  some  years  ago.  The 
present  one  is  attractive  on  account  of  its  vast  height 
and  length,  and  the  immensity  of  its  court. 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  165 

From  the  mosque  we  were  taken  to  see  the  Tomb  of 
Saladin,  but  I  was  disgusted  here  to  find  a  token 
of  regard  for  this  very  anti-Christian  Sultan  in  the 
shape  of  a  large  gold  laurel  wreath  deposited  by 
the  most  Christian  ex-Emperor,  William  II.  Even 
in  this  instance,  however,  his  flattery  failed  to  give 
entire  satisfaction  to  those  whom  he  sought  to  cajole. 
The  Mohammedans  resented  the  introduction  of  a 
Cross  (the  emblem  of  Christianity)  into  the  com- 
position of  the  funereal  trophy. 

Syria  was  at  that  time  ringing  with  stories  of 
William  IFs  visit  there,  and  many  were  the  anecdotes 
we  heard,  not  all  of  which  redounded  to  his  credit. 
In  fact,  he  seems  to  have  done  a  good  deal  to  diminish 
that  credit  during  the  course  of  his  triumphal  progress. 

Especially  does  he  appear  to  have  given  offence 
by  the  parsimony  of  the  gifts  he  offered  in  exchange 
for  the  priceless  treasures  he  carried  off  from  the 
houses  of  those  Arabs  and  Turkish  officials  whom 
he  delighted  to  honour  by  visiting  them  in  their 
homes.  Said  one  of  those  to  me :  "  The  ship  that 
carried  away  the  booty  collected  in  Palestine  very 
nearly  sank  at  her  moorings,  so  heavily  was  she  laden, 
for  His  Majesty  refused  nothing  that  was  offered, 
and  through  his  Consul-Generals  very  often  intimated 
a  desire  for  that  which  was  not  offered !  " 

In  this  way  he  carried  off  the  whole  of  the  ivory 
inlaid  furniture  of  a  room  specially  decorated  for  his 
reception.  In  exchange,  he  presented  a  life-size  por- 
trait of  himself. 

On  another  occasion,  as  the  Arab  troops  were  being 
paraded  before  him,  he  singled  out  two  youths  for 
the  excellence  of  their  horsemanship  and  the  beauty 
of  the  accoutrements  of  men  and  beasts.  They 


166  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

were  accorded  the  privilege  of  riding  behind  the 
Imperial  carriage  and  believed  their  fortunes  to  be 
made. 

On  arrival  at  Damascus  His  Majesty,  through  his 
Consul-General,  asked  for  the  harness  of  the  one 
horseman  which  he  particularly  admired,  and  the 
lance  of  the  other,  both  of  which  were  of  exquisite 
workmanship.  They  happened  to  be  in  pawn  with 
the  youths,  two  less  fortunate  comrades  having 
borrowed  the  equivalent  of  400  francs  on  them. 

The  gallant  fellows,  however,  did  not  hesitate 
to  offer  them  to  His  Majesty,  "  quitte  a  payer  les  400 
francs  "  to  the  rightful  owners,  and  were  overjoyed 
when  in  return  a  gold  ten  mark  piece  was  conveyed 
to  each  from  the  Emperor.  They  took  the  coin  to 
be  a  high  German  decoration.  But  when  their 
mistake  was  pointed  out  to  them  they  flung  the 
coins  on  the  ground  in  their  anger  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

We  knew  the  Damascus  bazaars  thoroughly  by  the 
time  we  left,  for  there  was  not  a  hole  or  corner  of 
them  which  we  left  unexplored  during  the  four  or 
five  days  of  our  stay. 

They  are,  as  a  rule,  narrow  covered  ways  lined  on 
either  side  with  open-fronted  booths  in  which  sit 
vendors  cross-legged  extolling  their  wares  to  the 
passer-by. 

The  women  sometimes  bargain  with  these  vendors 
for  hours,  haggling,  as  is  the  wont  of  their  sex  every- 
where, over  the  price  to  be  paid  for  a  gay-coloured 
shawl  or  a  bright  strip  of  silk. 

Of  the  beauty  or  otherwise  of  these  women  it  is 
impossible  to  judge.  Mohammedan  women  all  over 
Turkey  in  Asia  are  clothed  in  black,  with  their 


IN  THE  HOLY  LAND  167 

faces  completely  hidden  by  coloured  and  opaque 
figured  veils,  which  they  wear  confined  by  a  forehead 
band,  and  securely  fastened  below  the  chin.  Their 
features  are  thus  so  effectually  concealed  that  it  is 
impossible  for  any  prying  eye  to  pierce  their  disguise. 

Their  young  children,  however,  are  open  to  the 
admiration  of  all ;  each  is  perched  astride  upon  the 
mother's  hip,  with  her  encircling  arm  around  its 
waist.  Most  sweet  and  winsome  are  the  various  types 
of  Arab  babes  thus  seen. 

In  the  country  around  Nazareth  and  at  Nablus 
the  women  were  not  so  closely  veiled  as  in  Damascus. 
When,  for  instance,  we  surprised  them  washing  at 
the  village  fountain  or  working  in  the  olive  groves, 
they  allowed  us  full  liberty  to  admire  the  real  beauty 
of  their  dark  eyes  and  red  lips.  The  countrywomen 
are  not  shy,  as  the  town  dwellers  are,  and  would 
often  laugh  and  exchange  glances  with  the  men  of 
our  party  as  coquettishly  as  might  have  done  their 
Western  sisters. 

The  biggest,  but  also  the  most  modern,  of  the  bazaars 
in  Damascus  is  the  so-called  "  Greek  "  bazaar,  and 
here  are  the  best  curiosity  shops.  We  bought  bur- 
nouses and  opalescent  glass  and  one  or  two  examples 
of  Damascene  pottery  and  armour,  but  the  prices 
asked  were  excessive. 

Opening  out  of  the  bazaars  at  intervals  were  khans, 
or  enclosed  and  roofed  courts,  great  two-storied 
enclosures  with  shops  below,  a  gallery  above,  and  a 
cool,  splashing  fountain  in  the  centre.  These  khans 
are  the  busy  centres  of  the  wholesale  trade  of  the 
town. 

The  Khan  Asad  Pasha  is  the  largest  and  handsomest 
of  them.  Four  stout  stone  columns  divide  its  space 


i68  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

into  nine  enclosures,  the  central  one  with  its  fountain 
being  the  largest,  and  over  each  of  these  rises  a  domed 
roof.  The  walls  are  constructed  of  alternate  courses 
of  black  and  yellowish  stone. 

The  dim  light  of  these  vast  khans  and  the  coolness 
of  their  shadowy  recesses  make  them  delightful  resorts 
to  those  coming  from  the  heat  and  glare  of  the  out- 
side world.  The  men  collect  in  them  for  gossip 
and  business,  wandering  among  the  stacked  bales 
of  goods  which  encumber  them,  or  pillowed  in  cosy 
corners  for  sleep. 

Haunting  them  as  we  did  for  a  week,  we  had 
opportunity  to  study  at  leisure  the  many  types  there 
presented — Arab,  Bedouin,  Persian,  Mahommedan, 
Jew — but  we  were  bewildered  by  the  very  multiplicity 
of  these  types,  and  found  ourselves  constantly  referring 
to  the  dragoman  in  our  anxiety  to  recognize  one 
from  the  other. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AMERICA 

Washington,  the  Mecca  of  diplomatists — We  are  eulogized  at 
first  by  the  American  Press — What  America  is  like — Its 
hurry  and  social  ambition — American  wives  and  their  hus- 
bands—  A  visit  to  the  Bowery  —  Opium  dens  —  A  lost 
Englishwoman — How  I  offended  some  American  journalists 
— What  they  said  of  me  and  what  I  think  of  them. 

FROM  Constantinople  to  Washington  is  a  far  cry, 
yet  it  was  our  luck  to  find  our  home,  at  a  stroke 
of  the  official  pen,  transferred  from  one  to  the  other, 
when  in  1905  my  husband  was  promoted  Councillor 
of  Embassy  in  the  United  States  capital. 

Washington  is  the  Mecca  of  all  diplomatists  who 
cannot  be  appointed  to  London.  We  were  naturally 
delighted  to  be  sent  there,  and  determined  to  make 
the  most  of  our  stay  in  America.  We  were  very 
kindly  received  and  at  first  had  what  the  French 
would  call  une  bonne  presse.  American  newspapers 
in  the  main  are  amongst  the  best  run  and  best  informed 
in  the  world.  I  have  visited  and  lived  in  many 
countries  of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds,  and  have  had 
ample  opportunity  of  judging  their  Press,  but  nowhere, 
unless  it  be  in  England,  have  I  come  across  such  a 
"  live  "  Press  as  that  of  the  United  States.  Journa- 
lists in  that  country  are  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with. 
They  are  influential,  go-ahead  and  well-informed, 

169 


i;o  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

and  on  the  whole  make  good  use  of  their  power. 
Sensationalism  is  a  national  characteristic,  and  of 
this  quality  they  naturally  have  their  full  share, 
but  their  judgments,  on  the  whole,  are  fair,  their 
business  notions  are  sound,  and  their  opinions  on 
men  and  matters  of  much  value. 

There  is,  however,  a  section  of  that  Press,  known 
in  America  as  the  Yellow  Press,  which  to  our  English 
ideas  is  pushing  and  vulgar  to  the  last  degree.  The 
touts  for  so-called  Society  journals  invade  the  sanctity 
of  private  life  to  an  almost  incredible  extent.  New- 
comers in  Washington  or  New  York  as  a  rule  fall  a 
prey  to  them,  for,  not  being  on  their  guard,  they 
are  caught  by  telephone  or  otherwise  almost  before 
they  are  aware  of  the  trap  that  has  been  laid  for 
them.  My  husband  and  I  were  not  allowed  to  escape. 

Walter's  past  career  was  painted  in  glowing  colours. 
Indeed,  his  talents  were  so  highly  esteemed  that  the 
most  ambitious  official  flights  were  deemed  to  be 
well  within  his  reach.  "It  is  quite  likely  that  Mr. 
Townley  covets  the  Vice-Royalty  of  India  as  his 
ultimate  honour,"  wrote  one  of  these  papers,  "  and 
there  are  many  reasons  why  he  would  make  a  great 
candidate  for  that  onerous  post.  While  at  Teheran 
he  received  an  allowance  for  proficiency  in  the  Persian 
tongue,  and  he  has  since  extended  his  knowledge  of 
the  Aryan  (!)  languages  and  literatures  to  the 
unbelievable  point." 

As  for  me,  I  was  a  "  bright,  brainy,  winsome  and 
accomplished  little  lady  " — ("  Margot  "  could  hardly 
beat  that !) — "  one  of  the  most  valuable  acquisitions 
which  the  Diplomatic  Corps  had  had  in  years !  " 
My  personal  appearance,  dress  and  conversation 
were  freely  commented  upon.  It  was  remarked  that 


AMERICA  171 

I  wore  my  jewels  "in  a  manner  made  famous  by 
the  infamous  Leonor  Telles  "  (who  was  she  ?),  also 
that  "  on  State  occasions  "  I  wore  "  a  diagonal  sash 
of  blue  and  white  "  (it  happened  to  be  green,  red 
and  white,  the  grand  cordon  of  the  Sheffakat)  "  upon 
which  gleamed  a  resplendent  decoration,  i.e.,  the 
Order  of  the  Garter,  the  Victoria  Cross,  or  some 
such  bric-a-brac."  Could  anything  surpass  this  ! 

But  from  the  first  they  got  "  mixed  "  about  my 
family  connexions.  These  furnished  them  subject 
matter  for  endless  paragraphs.  They  described  me 
as  the  daughter  of  the  7th  Earl  of  Aberdeen.  This 
would  not  have  signified,  for  both  Aberdeen  and 
Albemarle  begin  with  an  A,  and  therefore  confusion 
between  the  two  might  have  been  forgiven  had  they 
not  gone  a  step  further  and  credited  me  with  "  all 
the  Gordon  independence  of  thought  and  action, 
as  well  as  the  Gordon  savoir-faire  "  to  which  I  natur- 
ally had  no  claim.  They  saw  symptoms  in  me  also 
of  that  "  diplomatic  sagacity  "  which  distinguished 
my  supposed  father,  Lord  Aberdeen. 

They  found  out  their  mistake  in  time,  however, 
and  got  on  the  right  track  at  last  when  they  dis- 
covered in  "  Lady  Susan  the  real  daughter  of  a  bona 
fide  Earl  who  goes  to  parties  duly  tagged  and  labelled 
as  such."  Not  only  was  I  "  the  daughter  of  the 
late  belted  Earl  of  Albemarle,"  but  incidentally  I 
was  also  "  the  sister  of  the  present  holder  of  the 
belt." 

Then  a  vexing  problem  arose.  What  "  status " 
should  be  given  me  as  such  ?  '  The  William  J. 
Boardmans  seem  to  be  the  only  people  in  Washington 
Society  who  know  what  to  do  with  Lady  Susan. 
They  placed  her  next  to  the  Vice-President  at  a 


i;2  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

dinner-party  last  week,  and  thereby  raised  quite 
a  storm  from  natives  who  think  they  should  have 
followed  the  Washington  code  of  etiquette  rather 
than  the  British.  Lady  Susan  is,  if  her  Ladyship 
will  excuse  the  expression,  playing  the  very  deuce, 
and  Washington  hostesses  are  getting  grey." 

Finally,  "  this  problem  so  vexing  to  many  hostesses  " 
was  decided.  In  deference  to  democratic  feeling  in 
America,  it  was  resolved  not  to  follow  the  custom 
on  this  point  "  prevalent  in  monarchical  countries," 
but  to  "  allot  "  to  me  the  rank  of  my  husband  in 
the  Diplomatic  Service,  and  although  it  was  noticed 
that  I  "  bitterly  resented  such  a  ruling  "  this  decision 
was  thereafter  adhered  to. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  in  America,  the  Foreign 
Office  ordered  an  official  inspection  to  be  made  of 
all  the  British  Consulates  in  the  country,  and  upon 
my  husband  devolved  this  task.  It  entailed  our 
leaving  Washington  on  a  long  tour  which  took  us 
from  north  to  south,  from  east  to  west,  so  that  we 
visited  in  turn  practically  all  the  large  cities. 

Now  the  actual  fact  of  travelling  in  America  is 
an  experience  I  cannot  appreciate.  Nothing  in  the 
world  equals  the  discomfort  of  it.  An  American 
sleeping-car,  where  a  score  or  more  of  people  of  both 
sexes  are  boxed  up  for  the  night  head  and  toe  in 
curtained  cubicles  arranged  in  two  tiers  and  divided 
only  by  a  thin  partition,  is  to  me  an  abomination. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  misery  of  it.  My  nights 
were  generally  rendered  sleepless  by  the  snoring  of 
my  neighbours,  then  my  temper  for  the  day  was 
ruined  by  frantic  endeavours  to  dress  on  my  bed 
and  within  the  protecting  folds  of  my  curtains.  We 
most  of  us  know,  in  travelling,  the  discomfort  of 


AMERICA  173 

having  to  put  on  one's  clothes  without  washing  one's 
face  even ;  but  add  to  that  the  misery  of  standing 
in  a  queue  struggling  to  get  to  the  apartment  at 
the  end  of  the  sleeping-coach  where  this  desirable 
operation  must  be  performed  at  least  once  daily  if 
your  journey  is  to  last  a  week,  as  most  journeys  in 
America  appear  to  me  to  do. 

Another  feature  of  travel  in  the  new  world  which 
I  particularly  dislike,  but  which  many  people  appre- 
ciate, is  the  impossibility  of  escape  from  one's  fellow- 
travellers,  even  in  the  case  of  headache  or  weariness. 
In  the  long  undivided  coaches  all  the  chairs  are  on 
pivots,  so  that  one  is  exposed  to  the  public  gaze 
from  every  angle.  Alas  !  American  travelling  ideas 
are  making  strides  in  England.  We  now  have  cor- 
ridor trains  and  a  great  extension  of  the  Pullman 
and  Restaurant  Cars.  I  hope  we  may  draw  the 
line  at  the  cubicle  sleeping-car  accommodation.  Of 
course,  if  one  is  rich  enough  and  successful  in  apply- 
ing for  it  before  some  one  else  does,  one  can  travel 
in  the  drawing-room  car,  but  the  cost  of  this  is 
prohibitive  to  many. 

Still,  I  was  glad  of  the  chance  of  seeing  so  much 
of  America.  We  found  New  York,  Chicago  and  Bos- 
ton all  three  typically  American :  one  as  the  home 
of  the  dollar,  the  other  as  the  centre  of  the  meat 
trade,  and  the  third  as  the  seat  of  learning.  All 
three  are  as  different  from  each  other  as  gin  is  from 
water,  though  both  look  alike  in  the  bottle !  In 
the  same  way  did  we  find  the  East  vary  from  the 
West — Santa  Barbara  from  Havana — San  Fran- 
cisco from  New  Orleans — Salt  Lake  City  from  St. 
Louis — Philadelphia,  the  old-colonial,  from  Palm 
Beach,  the  up-to-date  and  flirtatious. 


174  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Our  first  visit  was  to  Florida.  We  travelled  by 
the  Palm  Limited  Express,  and  broke  our  journey 
at  Savannah,  continuing  our  way  to  a  place  called 
Palatka,  the  starting-point  for  the  Oklawaha  River, 
one  of  the  show  sights  of  Florida.  Mrs.  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe,  writing  her  impressions  of  this  river 
by  night,  says  :  '  The  dusky  plumage  of  the  pal- 
mettos waving  above,  lit  by  torchlight,  looks  like 
the  fine  tracery  of  a  wondrous  sculptured  roof." 

Her  description  is  both  poetical  and  true,  but 
it  does  not  give  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  She 
does  not  tell  how  depressing  it  is  to  glide  on  in  these 
same  magic  surroundings  without  change  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  when  the  eye,  satiated  with  the  green 
profusion  of  waving  palmettos  and  lofty  cypress, 
seeks  in  vain  for  a  more  distant  perspective,  when 
the  ear,  charmed  at  first  by  silence,  craves  for  the 
note  of  a  bird  that  will  break  it.  The  narrow  river 
limits  one's  horizon  always.  There  is  no  escape 
from  the  coils  of  its  green  embrace. 

But  Palm  Beach  is  charming,  both  from  the  scenic 
and  the  social  point  of  view.  The  hotels  accommo- 
date an  immense  number  of  guests  and  are  built 
in  the  midst  of  palm  groves  on  an  island  in  the 
Atlantic.  They  have  a  casino,  swimming  pool,  tennis- 
courts,  golf-course,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  most 
beautiful  garden  in  the  world — one  of  the  few  gardens 
where  coco-nut  palms  look  at  home,  instead  of  appear- 
ing to  eke  out  a  starved  existence  in  the  uncongenial 
surroundings  to  which  they  have  been  transplanted. 

In  this  fantastically  beautiful  garden  are  pink 
and  white  oleanders,  cannas,  patches  of  white  quince 
blossom,  plumbago,  bougainvillaea,  and  giant  hibiscus 
bushes  starred  with  innumerable  red  blooms,  each 


AMERICA  175 

one  six  inches  across.  The  magic  of  that  garden 
needs  its  own  poet  to  paint  it,  when  the  night  shades 
bring  out  the  scent  of  orange  blossom,  when  the 
fireflies  gather  to  their  brilliant  revels,  while  the 
great  full  moon  looks  down  on  the  young  people 
pacing  by  the  level  stretches  of  the  calm  seashore. 

As  for  social  gaiety,  nothing  in  Nice  or  in  Monte 
Carlo  can  touch  Palm  Beach.  It  is,  essentially,  a 
place  for  the  young.  Its  throngs  of  white-clad 
maidens  and  flannel-coated  youths  ride,  swim,  fish 
and  play  games  all  day,  and  in  the  evening  they 
dance,  flirt  and  gamble.  They  ask  nothing  more  of  life. 

From  ultra-modern  Palm  Beach  a  quick  change 
via  Miami  transferred  us  to  Havana,  the  fascinating 
old  capital  of  Cuba,  where  we  allowed  ourselves  a 
few  days  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  not  within 
our  official  "  beat." 

In  the  harbour  is  an  historical  relic — the  half- 
submerged  wreck  of  the  Maine.  I  looked  with  interest 
at  the  shattered  keel  and  twisted  turret  of  this  once 
powerful  battleship,  on  whose  tragic  loss  so  great 
an  issue  had  depended.  Few  wrecked  hulls  are  vested 
with  such  tragic  significance. 

The  harbour  of  Havana  possesses  a  personal 
interest  for  me,  as  it  was  two  of  my  ancestors,  General 
Lord  Albemarle  and  Admiral  Viscount  Keppel,  two 
brothers,  who  captured  this  prize  for  England  in 
1762,  the  one  commanding  the  land  forces  and  the 
other  the  armada.  A  third  brother  was  Chief  of 
the  Staff  to  Lord  Albemarle.  Soon  after  its  capture 
the  Havana  was  restored  to  Spain,  which  gave  rise 
to  a  popular  saying  at  the  time  that  the  expedition 
had  been  organized  solely  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Keppels. 


176  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

From  Havana  we  went  back  to  New  York  by  sea. 

In  the  course  of  our  wanderings  we  became 
acquainted  with  every  side  of  American  life.  One 
feature  of  it  never  failed  to  strike  me,  and  that  was 
the  speed  at  which  Americans  carry  on  their  daily 
lives.  No  people  in  the  world  appear  to  me  to  hurry 
so  constantly  and  so  consistently  as  do  the  Americans. 
They  are  always  making  haste,  whether  to  work,  eat, 
or  play. 

One  of  the  proudest  boasts  of  an  American  city 
is  that  it  is  gridironed  with  car  lines,  and  most 
American  cities  are  entitled  by  fact  to  boast  of  this 
distinction.  The  demand  for  so  many  street  cars 
proceeds  from  the  desire  of  every  citizen  to  move 
at  top  speed  from  one  place  to  another.  He  has 
no  tune  to  walk,  step  it  as  lively  as  he  may.  Watch 
those  same  cars  careering  down  the  streets  at  express 
rate  armed  with  fenders  in  front  to  pick  up  or  throw 
to  one  side  any  stray  pedestrian  who  happens  to 
obstruct  the  way,  and  watch  their  passengers  pre- 
cipitating themselves — what  they  call "  transferring  " 
from  one  car  to  another,  in  their  efforts  to  reach  a 
given  point  in  the  shortest  possible  time,  and  you 
will  hardly  be  surprised  at  a  remark  I  lately  read 
in  one  of  the  annual  reports  of  the  Capital  Traction 
Company  to  the  effect  that  217  of  the  unfortunate 
403  persons  injured  that  year  would  have  escaped 
if  they  had  not  been  in  such  a  terrible  hurry  to  board 
or  quit  their  cars. 

Further  evidences  of  this  American  passion  for 
hurry  are  to  hand  in  the  many  quick-lunch  shops 
that  adorn  the  streets.  Here  busy  men  dash  in, 
and  consume,  standing,  enough  food  to  help  them 
go  on  hurrying  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Pursue  your 


TRANSLAIION 
Top  line  :  '  No  Conttaband.' 
Below:  '  The  great  steamer  f.iisilani 
which  was  sunk  by  a  German  sub- 
marine, 5th  May,  1915 


TRANSLATION 

Top  line  :  '  Business  before  everything.' 

Right  hand  :  '  Cunard  Line — 

Booking  Office  ' 


MUDAL  STRUCK   BY  THE   HUNS  TO  COMMEMORATE  THE 

SINKING   OF    THE   LUSITANIA 

This  ship  sailed  two  days  later  than  the  anticipated  date,  and  was 
torpedoed  on  7th  May.  The  medal  is  dated  5th  May — two  days  prior  to 
the  tragedy— conclusively  proving  that  the  outrage  was  premeditated.  The 
medal  was  hastily  recalled  by  the  German  Government,  and  a  new  one 
issued  with  the  amended  date.  Only  a  very  few  of  the  original  issue  (whicbi 
having  passed  into  Allied  hands,  and,  therefore,  beyond  recall)  are  now 
extant. 


AMERICA  177 

way  anywhere  about  an  American  town  and  note 
all  the  evidences  of  this  curious  characteristic  of  a 
race  always  seeking  new  methods  to  accelerate  their 
natural  locomotion  ;  note  all  the  time-saving  devices 
at  every  citizen's  hand— the  telephone,  the  telegraph, 
wireless  and  with  wires,  even  the  megaphone  and 
the  tube  for  written  messages.  We  have  adopted 
some  of  these  time-saving  devices  in  England,  but 
we  are  still  very  far  behind  our  American  cousins. 

In  New  York,  Americans  hurry  on  two  or  three 
levels  at  once.  So,  whilst  cars,  carriages,  motors 
and  bicycles  jostle  and  crowd  and  pass  each  other 
in  the  street,  the  overhead  cars  dash  along  the  "  ele- 
vated "  railway,  whilst  the  subway  trains  save  time 
below.  In  the  houses  lining  the  streets  the  lifts  or 
elevators  ceaselessly  toil  up  and  down,  carrying  their 
closely  packed  crowd  of  driven  human  beings  who 
no  longer  have  time  to  walk  up  the  stairs.  Apropos 
of  elevators,  I  cannot  resist  quoting  a  line  from 
my  old  friend,  Henry  James,  who,  speaking  of  the 
quiet  of  a  hospital  in  New  York,  remarked  that  it 
was  as  great  as  if  "  the  passion  of  the  elevated  and 
of  the  elevator  in  especial  were  for  ever  at  rest, 
and  no  one  were  '  stepping  lively '  for  miles  and 
miles  away." 

Another  striking  characteristic  of  this  splendid 
race  of  men  is  their  utter  independence  of  privacy, 
or  to  put  it  more  correctly,  their  love  of  publicity. 
They  are  the  most  gregarious  people  in  the  world, 
and  are  never  really  happy  except  when  they  are 
herded  and  en  evidence. 

In  walking  about  American  cities  I  was  at  first 
struck  by  the  fact  that  all  gardens  are  open  to  the 
street,  even  those  of  the  biggest  houses.  I  inquired 


178  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

about  this  and  was  told  that  it  is  against  the  com- 
munity spirit  of  America  to  enclose  them  except 
with  an  ornamental  railing.  Town  dwellers  find 
more  pleasure  sitting  in  their  gardens  if  they  can 
see  and  be  seen  from  them ;  playgrounds  in  the 
heart  of  the  cities  are  equally  open  and  unpro- 
tected from  the  street.  In  the  houses  the  same 
absence  of  privacy  prevails.  There  are  no  doors 
to  the  reception-rooms.  What  an  American  really 
loves  is  that  his  gaze  should  be  able  to  wander  freely 
over  the  whole  suite  of  State  apartments  from  the 
drawing-room  on  the  front  through  the  big  hall, 
which  generally  occupies  the  centre  of  the  house, 
to  the  farther  wall  of  the  dining-room  which  forms 
its  rear. 

Though  I  received  so  many  and  such  varied 
impressions  during  our  many  journeys,  I  still  find 
it  as  hard  to  define  America  and  the  Americans  as 
it  would  be  to  capture  the  reflected  rays  of  a  faceted 
diamond.  For  where  in  a  comparatively  new  civili- 
zation does  hospitality  end  and  self-advertisement 
begin,  where  is  the  line  to  be  drawn  between  justifiable 
ambition  and  social  "  climbing,"  when  does  the  love 
of  titles  resolve  itself  into  snobbishness  ? 

One  of  the  first  things  I  felt  in  America,  no  matter 
in  what  social  centre,  was  the  disadvantage  to  host- 
esses of  having  no  traditions  to  fall  back  upon.  We 
do  not  realize  in  the  dear  Old  World,  until  we  see  in 
America  the  embarrassment  caused  by  the  absence 
of  it,  how  entirely  we  depend  on  time-honoured  custom 
for  reference  and  comparison. 

Whatever  may  be  the  case  with  the  younger  of 
London's  "  smart  set,"  who  are  rapidly  transforming 
our  old  grey  city  into  a  bad  imitation  of  New  York, 


AMERICA  179 

older  hostesses  in  England  still  play  the  society  game 
with  respect  for  its  ancient  rules.  Hedged  in  by 
custom  and  supported  by  tradition,  they  have  an 
inexorable  standard  by  which  to  judge  of  their  actions. 
"  Never  need  pecuniary  power  beat  its  wings  in  the 
void  and  look  round  for  the  charity  of  a  hint  as  to 
whether  it  is  flying  too  high  or  too  low  for  good  taste." 
All  that  was  settled  long  ago. 

But  in  America  there  is  no  way  of  measuring  the 
social  fitness  of  things.  Each  hostess  is  a  law  unto 
herself.  And  thus  it  is  that  feminine  rivalries  are 
born,  and  necessity  arises  to  outdo  one's  neighbour, 
a  necessity  which  betrays  American  hostesses  into 
extravagances  often  bordering  upon  and  sometimes 
overstepping  the  limits  of  good  taste. 

Nevertheless,  although  lacking  in  that  subtle 
undefinable  quality  which  distinguishes  our  older 
civilizations  in  Europe,  there  is  much  to  be  said  in 
praise  of  American  Society,  which  in  many  respects 
gains  by  the  courage  which  it  shows  in  heaving  over- 
board such  dull  customers  as  "  old  fashion  "  and 
"  respectability." 

There  is  something  very  thrilling,  too,  in  belonging 
to  a  "  smart  set  "  which  may  in  one  week  be  reduced 
from  400  to  70  by  the  arbitrary  wave  of  a  hostess's 
pen.  That  happened  in  New  York  in  November, 
1905,  on  the  occasion  of  Prince  Louis  of  Battenberg's 
visit,  when  old  Mrs.  Astor,  the  admitted  leader  of 
society,  thinned  out  her  invitation  list  to  suit  the 
capacity  of  her  dinner-table.  The  survivors  of  that 
drastic  cut  were  known  henceforth  as  "  Mrs.  Astor 's 
elect."  Many  formerly  prominent  women  thereby 
suffered  social  eclipse.  They  probably  came  to  Europe, 
where  the  charming  adaptability  which  distinguishes 


180  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

women  of  their  country  would  promptly  gain  for 
them  the  footing  in  society  which  their  own  country 
denied  them.  Those  in  New  York  and  Washington 
who  remained  that  night  within  the  charmed  circle 
were  accepted  from  that  day  as  constituting  absolutely 
the  highest  social  grade  of  New  York.  Imagine  the 
feelings  of  London  Society  if  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain suddenly  took  it  into  his  head  to  act  in  so 
arbitrary  a  fashion.  He  would  have  the  whole  of 
Dodd's  peerage  and  the  united  forces  of  the  College 
of  Heralds  to  face.  It  would  provoke  a  scene  worthy 
of  "  Alice  in  Wonderland  "  ! 

In  New  York,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so,  one  is 
always  aware  of  the  social  striving  of  women.  One 
sees  the  wheels  whirring  that  keep  the  clock  going. 
In  a  city  so  ostentatiously  rich  they  must  outdo  each 
other  in  their  entertainments  to  gain  and  hold  the 
first  place  as  hostesses.  There  is  nothing  New  York 
loves  so  much  as  the  entertaining  of  a  real  live  Prince 
from  U-rope.  Nor  is  a  lesser  foreign  light,  in  the 
shape  of  a  Duke,  or  even  a  "  stranger  of  distinction  " 
to  be  despised.  When  the  advent  of  such  a  one  is 
announced  in  the  Press,  the  first  question,  of  course, 
is  with  whom  shall  he  stay  ?  Letters  of  introduc- 
tion brought  or  forwarded  by  himself  sometimes 
settle  this  point,  and  this  is  indeed  the  happiest  solu- 
tion, for  without  it  many  a  female  friendship  would 
be  wrecked  on  the  rock  of  hospitality.  Failing  that, 
however,  one  lady  cleverer  than  the  rest  generally 
outmanoeuvres  her  sisters  and  secures  the  "  Prince  " 
(I  call  him  so  for  want  of  a  better  name).  The  next 
thing  is  to  "  entertain  "  him.  Lists  are  consulted 
and  ruthlessly  cut  down  (vide  Mrs.  Astor's).  Then 
the  telephone  begins  to  work.  Oh,  how  anxiously 


AMERICA  181 

that  telephone  bell  is  being  listened  for,  especially  by 
aspirants  to  social  pre-eminence  whose  position  is 
still  undefined,  but  whose  value  may  be  finally  deter- 
mined by  inclusion  in  these  parties ! 

"  My  dear,  are  you  free  on  the  tenth  ?  "  comes  the 
airy  question  of  the  hostess,  swelling  with  the  pride 
of  patronage,  to  the  invitee  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire,  trembling  with  eagerness  yet  trying  not  to 
seem  too  keen.  "I'm  not  quite  sure,  dearest ;  hold 
the  line  one  moment,  111  consult  my  book  !  "  And 
all  the  time  "  dearest  "  knows  exactly  what  this  little 
comedy  means,  and  that "  my  dear  "  has  kept  the  whole 
week  free  "  on  spec."  in  hopes  of  this  very  invitation, 
for  did  she  not  find  herself  a  hundred  times  in  the 
same  position  when  she  was  scaling  the  social  ladder  ? 

Then,  having  collected  her  parties  and  organized  for 
her  guest  as  many  luncheons,  teas,  dinners,  suppers, 
operas  and  balls  as  he  can  squeeze  into  the  period  of 
his  visit,  the  prospective  hostess  turns  her  thoughts 
to  the  adornment  of  herself  and  her  house. 

Hats  and  dresses  are  ordered  in  those  wonderful 
Fifth  Avenue  shops  for  every  separate  occasion,  and 
here  the  hostess  has  a  distinct  advantage  over  her 
rivals,  for  having  arranged  them  herself,  she  knows 
precisely  what  these  occasions  will  be  and  can  secure 
the  very  thing  for  each. 

The  house  is  turned  upside  down  and  inside  out, 
everything  being  done  that  may  enhance  the  comfort 
of  the  guest,  for  American  women  are  past  masters 
in  the  art  of  entertaining  and  spare  nothing  to  make 
their  parties  a  success.  Indeed,  entertaining  in  New 
York  is  attended  by  a  display  of  luxury  never  sur- 
passed in  England  even  before  the  war. 

I  was  once  staying  in  a  house  during  a  royal  visit, 


i8s  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

and  I  can  vouch  for  the  fact  that  £"2,000  worth  of 
orchids  and  American  Beauty  roses  were  brought  in 
for  table  and  other  decoration  that  week.  Truly 
attractive  is  this  American  lavishness  in  the  display 
of  flowers.  In  that  same  house  the  walls  of  the  dining- 
room  had  been  rehung  for  the  occasion  with  rose  du 
Barri  silk,  and  my  attention  was  called  by  my  host 
at  dinner  to  the  fact  that  the  livery  coats  of  the 
powdered  flunkeys  were  cut  from  the  same  length 
of  costly  material,  the  clocks  of  their  white  silk  stock- 
ings being  embroidered  in  the  form  of  the  family 
crest,  a  stag's  head  surmounted  by  a  crown.  Could 
luxury  go  further  ? 

All  arrangements  being  completed,  and  the  husband 
put  out  of  sight,  the  crowning  arrangement  in  many 
American  houses,  except  at  the  dinner-hour,  when  he 
generally  figures  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  hostess 
trembling  with  excitement  awaits  the  longed-for 
arrival.  He  comes  in  due  course,  so  do  the  guests 
selected  to  meet  him. 

These,  as  I  said  before,  are  carefully  selected,  but 
on  what  grounds  I  am  not  quite  certain,  for  I  am  not 
sure  of  the  rules  which  govern  social  precedence  in 
American  Society.  I  am  skating  on  rather  thin 
ice  in  venturing  even  to  allude  to  it,  for  as  we  all 
know,  that  little  word  "  precedence "  contains  in 
itself  all  the  potentialities  of  strife,  anger  and  bitter- 
ness. The  very  word  is  to  me  what  Mr.  Henry  James 
talks  of  somewhere  as  one  of  those  terrible  traps  to 
memory  baited  with  the  cheese  of  association,  for 
it  recalls  to  my  mind  the  curious  fact  that,  though 
Americans  affect  to  despise  rank  and  titles,  yet  nowhere 
in  the  world  are  people  such  sticklers  for  precedence 
based  upon  some  fanciful  claim  to  go  first.  (I  say 


AMERICA  183 

fanciful,  for  since  in  a  Republic  all  are  or  should  be 
equal,  and  there  is  no  real  reason  for  one  going  before 
another,  such  a  thing  as  a  claim  for  precedence  must 
necessarily  be  more  or  less  fanciful.)  I  think  Americans 
themselves  are  beginning  to  'feel  this,  and  it  is  prob- 
ably some  instinctive  need  for  an  echafaudage  of 
rank  upon  which  to  pin  their  claim  to  go  first  that 
makes  them  go  in  so  largely  for  Associations,  member- 
ship of  which  more  or  less  solves  the  problem,  I  sup- 
pose. I  latterly  came  across  an  old-fashioned  book 
from  which  I  gathered  the  following  list  of  names  of 
such  Associations.  It  may  be  that  some  at  least 
were  founded  to  supply  a  long-felt  social  need.  It 
may  also  be  that  some  of  them  have  ceased  to  exist. 
There  were  "  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution," 
"  Colonial  Dames  of  America,"  the  "  Aztec  "  Society, 
the  "  Social  Order  of  Foreign  Wars,"  the  "  Children 
of  1812,"  the  "  Grand-daughters  of  the  American 
Revolution,"  the  "  Society  of  Mayflower  Descendants," 
the  "  Royal  Order  of  the  Crown,"  the  "  Circle  of 
Holland  Dames  of  the  New  Netherlands,"  and  last, 
but  surely  not  least,  the  "  Baronial  Order  of  Runny- 
mede." 

But  to  return  to  my  point,  which  was  the  arrival 
of  the  "  Prince."  Upon  his  introduction  to  his  hostess 
and  her  friends  follow  hours,  not  to  say  days,  when 
the  favoured  guest  would  be  less  than  human  were 
he  not  touched  and  charmed  by  the  true  kindness 
and  hospitality  lavished  upon  him.  American  women 
are  proverbially  smart,  good-looking  and  agreeable, 
and  when  they  lay  themselves  out  to  please,  he  must 
be  fastidious  indeed  who  could  fail  to  be  delighted 
with  them.  And  he  will  be  really  amused  too  by  the 
entertainment  provided  for  him  if  he  has  those  ines- 


184  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

timable  qualities  of  youth  and  enthusiasm  with  which 
we  will  endow  him  for  the  purpose  of  this  sketch. 
For  the  amusements  open  to  him  will  include  in  the 
first  place  the  opera,  the  best  opera  in  the  most  beauti- 
ful house  I  know  !  And  this  brings  me  to  an  invariable 
feature  in  American  hospitality,  namely  the  promi- 
nence accorded  in  it  to  the  opera.  Mr.  Henry  James, 
whom  I  never  can  resist  quoting,  calls  the  opera  in 
New  York  the  great  vessel  of  social  salvation,  the 
comprehensive  substitute  for  all  other  conceivable 
vessels. 

A  woman  who  really  knows  how  to  play  her  social 
part  times  her  arrival  there  to  correspond  with  an 
entr'acte,  and  has  the  satisfaction  of  making  a  sensa- 
tion as  she  settles  herself  beside  her  guest  under  the 
collective  gaze  of  the  house.  And  the  opera  house 
lends  itself  admirably  to  this  effective  entry.  With 
us  a  box  in  a  theatre  gives  a  feeling  of  privacy  which 
we  much  value  ;  with  Americans  a  box  would  halve 
their  pleasure  if  it  confined  their  power  to  see  and 
be  seen.  In  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  in  New 
York  no  hampering  walls  of  any  kind  exist,  nor  even 
shielding  curtain,  but  the  eye  wanders  unrestrained 
round  the  brilliant  circle  of  misnamed  boxes  on  the 
parterre  of  the  house,  and  if  so  minded  one  has  but  to 
lean  over  the  dividing  rail  to  speak  with  one's  neigh- 
bours. And  this  brings  me  to  speak  of  another  curious 
feature  of  New  York  opera,  namely  the  toleration 
of  talking  all  through  the  performance,  however  good 
it  may  be,  and  however  large  a  figure  the  star  performer 
may  command.  If  one  is  a  lover  of  music,  one  must 
be  prepared  to  suffer  from  this  characteristic  feature 
of  New  York  opera. 

But  as  our  stranger  of  distinction  is  probably  an 


AMERICA  185 

average  young  man  he  will  be  content  to  look  about 
him  and  to  revel  in  the  vision  of  some  of  the  best- 
looking  and  most  smartly  turned  out  women  in  the 
world,  arrayed  in  the  costliest  of  furs,  decorated  with 
the  most  dazzling  of  jewels. 

American  women,  on  their  own  confession,  do  not 
always  attend  a  First  Night  for  the  sake  of  its  musical 
thrills  alone.  They  are  there  to  see  and  be  seen  ! 
Everybody's  dress  and  jewels  come  in  for  a  share  of 
their  interest. 

Even  the  appearance  in  the  house  of  so  unimportant 
a  person  as  myself,  when  we  were  in  New  York,  was 
sufficient  to  distract  their  attention.  "  Had  enthusiasts 
bid  eighty  to  ninety  dollars  for  a  pair  of  seats  that 
they  might  hear  Plangon,  or  to  dissect  Lady  Susan 
Townley's  costume  and  estimate  the  number  and 
cost  of  her  jewels  ?  "  reproachfully  queried  one  jour- 
nal after  a  more  than  usually  talkative  First  Night. 

But  to  return  to  our  "  Prince."  He  will  lunch  and 
dine  every  day  at  magnificent  private  houses  full  of 
objets  d'art  and  Old  Masters,  and  if,  in  these  splendid 
palaces,  he  feels  about  him  the  atmosphere  of  a  Museum 
or  Art  Collection,  rather  than  that  of  home,  to  which 
in  similar  surroundings  he  is  accustomed  on  his  own 
side  of  "  the  pond,"  he  must  blame  himself  rather  than 
his  kind  hostess. 

He  will  be  taken  to  the  play  also,  which  in  my 
opinion  he  will  find  less  well  staged  than  in  London, 
and  will  wind  up  his  evenings  supping  with  his  gay 
hostess  and  her  friends  at  one  of  the  many  first-class 
restaurants.  Or  he  will  dance  in  private  houses 
with  the  most  exquisite  dancers  in  the  world,  for 
nearly  all  American  women  are  fairies  in  their  dancing- 
slippers. 


i86  f  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Could  the  "  stranger  of  distinction  "  fail  to  enjoy 
himself  in  New  York  ? 

I  don't  know  why  I  have  wandered  off  into  a  disserta- 
tion on  American  hospitality,  good  as  it  is,  except 
that  that  same  hospitality  strikes  me  as  one  of  the 
most  marked  of  American  characteristics  and  is  bound 
to  impress  agreeably  anyone  fortunate  enough  to 
arrive  in  New  York  or  Washington  with  credentials 
which  will  ensure  him  an  experience  of  it. 

Having  described  American  women  and  their  charms, 
I  come  by  a  natural  transition  to  talk  of  American 
men  in  general  and  American  husbands  in  particular, 
as  they  appear  to  the  average  tourist  in  the  States. 
In  England  we  have  all  met  those  American  ladies 
who,  having  in  many  cases  climbed  out  of  quite  humble 
surroundings  in  some  small  city  in  the  West  or  else- 
where, have  continued  climbing  via  Newport  and  New 
York,  till  their  wise  climbing  carried  them  across  the 
ocean  to  London,  where  we  take  every  woman  on  trust, 
provided  she  be  pretty  and  witty.  These  ladies  are 
almost  invariably  minus  their  husbands,  and  are 
almost  equally  invariably  good-looking,  well-dressed 
and  wealthy.  They  take  a  house  and  entertain, 
or  they  live  at  the  most  expensive  hotels  and  are 
entertained,  and  from  them  we  learn  most  of  what 
we  know  of  the  American  man.  The  impression  we 
gather  is  that  for  some  reason  unexplained  he  is  quite 
inferior  to  his  female  partner ;  he  cares  only  for 
the  chase  of  the  elusive  dollar,  and  prefers  to  stay 
at  home  and  make  it  rather  than  be  dragged  abroad 
by  his  wife.  But  that  is  not  the  impression  I  formed 
of  him  when  I  went  to  America.  With  the  one  excep- 
tion of  the  New  York  "  idler,"  than  whom  no  man 
in  America  is  a  greater  failure,  for  it  takes  centuries 


AMERICA  187 

of  cultured  leisure  to  make  a  successful  idler,  the 
American  man  is  superior  in  a  great  many  qualities 
both  of  heart  and  head  to  the  American  woman.  His 
weak  social  point  lies  in  the  fact  that,  in  New  York 
anyhow,  he  allows  himself  to  be  reduced  to  a  state 
of  bondage  by  the  exigencies  and  the  selfishness  of 
the  pretty  tyrant  who  needs  money  to  spend  on  her 
yearly  conquest  of  England,  or  should  I  say  Europe  ! 
His  nose  is  constantly  kept  to  the  grindstone ;  I  have 
heard  him  alluded  to  as  "  the  purse,"  and  his  chief 
social  function  seems  to  be  that  of  signing  cheques 
in  her  favour.  With  him  it  appears  to  be  all  give  and 
no  take,  and  having  given  all,  he  is  not  even  allowed 
a  fair  share  of  the  amusements  that  his  money  will 
buy.  He  apparently  counts  for  nothing  in  his  house 
and  is  not  expected  to  appear  when  his  wife  is  entertain- 
ing, unless  the  entertainment  happens  to  be  a  dinner. 
A  wife  is  seldom  seen  in  public  with  her  husband 
except  when  he  accompanies  her  to  some  recep- 
tion. A  man  once  described  himself  to  me  as  "a 
tin  kettle  tied  to  a  mad  dog's  tail."  For  where 
his  wife  went  he  had  to  follow,  and  his  social 
cue  had  to  be  taken  from  her,  extravagant  as  it 
might  be.  The  counting-house  and  the  club  are  his 
social  centres,  and  there,  if  he  is  wise,  he  will  spend 
the  chief  part  of  his  life.  This  is  the  impression 
I  formed  in  New  York.  In  Washington,  things  were 
very  different,  for  there  brains  count,  and  politics, 
not  the  purse,  are  the  ruling  factor.  In  Washington, 
American  husbands  assume  their  proper  place  in  the 
social  scale.  For  them  the  White  House  and  Embas- 
sies open  their  doors  and  hostesses  give  their  parties. 
Called  to  the  capital  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
promoted  to  their  representative  positions  on  account 


i88  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

of  their  cleverness,  ambition  and  influence,  they  bring 
with  them  their  bourgeois  wives  trained  to  revolve 
contentedly  round  the  lords  of  creation.  The  political 
world  of  Washington  may  be  more  strenuous  and  less 
polished  than  that  of  New  York,  but  it  nevertheless 
represents  quite  as  true  a  type  of  modern  America,  and 
its  greater  simplicity  and  sincerity  make  a  distinctly 
more  sympathetic  appeal  than  does  New  York  with 
its  feverish  gaiety. 

Be  it  remembered  I  am  talking  of  society  only  in 
both  cases,  and  of  a  society  that  may  have  changed 
greatly  since  it  figured  in  my  diary. 

During  one  of  our  visits  to  New  York  the  Commis- 
sioner of  Police  offered  to  show  us  the  "  down  under  " 
side  of  the  city. 

One  evening,  therefore,  towards  midnight,  we  met 
at  an  appointed  rendezvous.  There  were  four  of 
us  besides  our  guide.  I  never  laughed  so  much  as 
when  I  surveyed  my  companions  ready  for  the  start. 
The  Chief  Commissioner  had  told  us  we  must  be 
very  careful  to  disguise  ourselves,  so  as  not  to  attract 
attention  in  our  night  expedition  to  the  Bowery. 

Lord  M certainly  looked  his  part  in  a  villainous 

orange  tweed  suit  he  had  borrowed  from  somewhere, 
with  trousers  rolled  up,  a  dirty  white  scarf  round  his 
collarless  neck  and  an  old  Homburg  hat.  Lady  M. 
and  I  wore  shirt  waists  that  had  seen  better  days, 
and  Walter  wrapped  himself  in  an  old  Burberry 
coat  and  pulled  a  tweed  cap  well  down  over  his  eyes. 

Thus  disguised,  we  started  off  with  the  Police 
Commissioner  to  visit  a  drinking-saloon  in  the  Bowery, 
the  haunt  of  thieves  whom  he  described  as  the  lowest 
criminals  in  New  York.  "  For  heaven's  sake,  be 
careful,"  he  whispered  to  us  as  we  pushed  open  the 


AMERICA  189 

door  to  enter,  "  don't  any  of  you  speak.  They  would 
get  suspicious  if  they  found  out  from  your  accent 
that  you  were  foreign,  and  there  might  be  a  row." 

He  had  arranged  with  one  of  his  officers  to  keep  a 
little  table  clear  for  us,  and  we  went  and  sat  down  and 
he  called  for  beer.  We  kept  our  eyes  open  as  we 
drank  and  he  talked  in  a  whisper,  pointing  out  the 
various  criminals.  "  Every  man  in  this  room/'  he 
said,  "  is  a  marked  man.  We  know  all  about  him. 
That  one  is  a  forger ;  that  one  has  just  been  released 
after  serving  a  long  sentence  for  robbery  with  violence  ; 
that  fellow  over  there  was  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods ; 
that  brutish-looking  chap  kept  an  opium  den.  But, 
take  care,  they  are  beginning  to  notice  us." 

And  so  indeed  they  were.  First  one  and  then 
another  rose  from  his  table  or  corner  and  sauntered 
over  to  where  we  sat.  They  stood  watching  us,  evi- 
dently wondering,  and  I  could  see  the  P.C.  was  getting 
uneasy,  when  Lady  M.,  who  had  a  beautifully  trained 
voice,  suddenly  began  to  sing  with  dramatic  action 
suited  to  her  audience. 

They  were  spellbound,  those  criminals,  and  for  a 
time  stood  open-mouthed,  listening,  but  little  by 
little  one  could  see  them  beginning  to  reason  and 
suspect.  They  edged  nearer  to  us. 

"  Time  to  go  !  "  whispered  the  Commissioner.  "  Slip 
away  quickly.  I  will  join  you  outside  in  a  moment." 

Presently  he  came  out.  "  I  didn't  quite  like  it," 
he  said.  "  If  they  had  found  out  you  were  there 
to  look  at  them  it  might  have  been  ugly.  Now  come, 
and  I  will  take  you  to  the  Chinese  quarter." 

Here  we  visited  the  opium  dens — foul,  ill-smelling 
places,  with  groups  of  Chinese  lying  about  smoking 
the  fatal  pipe  and  trying  to  get  to  the  stage  of  De 


igo  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Quincey's  dreams.  In  bunks,  ranged  round  the  walls 
like  berths  in  a  ship's  cabin,  lay  others,  already  sleep- 
ing off  the  effects  of  the  noxious  drug.  One  might 
have  been  in  the  heart  of  China,  in  the  Foochow  Road 
of  Shanghai.  Upstairs  was  a  much  sadder  sight, 
for  here  young  girls  and  women  were  being  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  drug  habit. 

"  I  can  show  you  Britishers  a  worse  sight  even  than 
this !  "  said  the  Police  Commissioner,  "  if  you  come 
along  with  me."  He  took  us  to  another  street  and 
into  a  great  dingy  building  with  a  long  flight  of  stairs, 
on  which  a  group  of  Salvation  Army  lasses  were 
singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The  stairs  were 
badly  lighted  with  oil  lamps. 

We  came  to  a  door  on  a  landing,  which  the  Com- 
missioner opened.  "  The  woman  in  this  room,"  he 
said,  pausing  with  his  hand  on  the  door  knob,  "  is  a 
countrywoman  of  yours.  She's  living  with  a  Chinaman. 
Although  quite  young,  I  give  her  seven  months  more. 
I  know  the  signs.  She's  killing  herself  with  opium." 

He  pushed  the  door  open  and  we  entered.  On  a 
Chinese  k'ang  (that  Chinese  brick  platform,  with  a 
fire  under  it,  on  which  the  Chinese  make  their  bed) 
lay  a  woman  half -dressed,  with  a  tray  by  her  side  on 
which  was  spread  all  the  paraphernalia  of  the  opium- 
smoker.  The  room  reeked  of  the  smell.  The  woman's 
hair  fell  about  her  shoulders. 

As  we  entered,  she  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  with 
a  terrifying  volley  of  curses  inquired  what  we  had 
come  for.  My  companions  retreated  in  haste,  but 
I  was  so  struck  by  the  sight  of  that  woman's  face 
that  I  could  not  go.  I  begged  the  Commissioner  to 
leave  me  with  her  a  few  moments,  and  shutting  the 
door  I  remained  standing  with  my  back  to  it. 


AMERICA  191 

"  Are  you  one  of  that  psalm-singing  lot  ?  "  she 
yelled  at  me.  "  Get  out  of  this.  I've  no  use  for 
you." 

"  No,"  I  said,  "I'm  not  here  to  preach  to  you,  but 
only  to  pay  you  a  little  visit,  as  we  are  countrywomen  ; 
mayn't  I  sit  down  for  a  moment  ?  'J 

She  hesitated,  but  presently  made  grudging  room 
for  me. 

I  spoke  to  her  gently,  asking  her  if  she  wasn't  tired 
of  New  York  and  if  she  wouldn't  like  to  see  the  green 
fields  of  England  again.  Had  she  no  mother  or 
sisters  she  could  go  home  to  ?  If  so,  I  thought  I 
was  influential  enough  to  make  things  easy  for  her. 
I  would  take  her  away  and  send  her  to  her  mother. 
I  talked  on,  longing  to  help,  not  knowing  what  to 
say !  The  poor  thing  looked  at  me  in  a  dazed  sort 
of  way.  Her  anger  had  passed  ;  she  no  longer  seemed 
to  resent  my  presence,  but  when  I  mentioned  her 
mother  she  gave  way  suddenly  and  sank  down  on 
the  bed,  convulsed  with  sobs. 

"  Oh,  my  mother,  my  mother,"  she  moaned.  "  If 
I  thought  that  she  knew  what  had  happened  to  me, 
I  would  kill  myself." 

And  then,  little  by  little,  she  told  me  her  pitiful 
story.  She  had  come  to  New  York  as  an  emigrant, 
seeking  work.  She  had  been  young,  pretty,  full 
of  the  joy  of  life,  and  she  had  found  work  as  a  clerk 
in  a  bank.  But  the  manager  cast  his  evil  eye  on  her. 
For  a  time  he  treated  her  as  a  plaything,  but  tired  of 
her  and  turned  her  on  the  streets. 

"  What  was  I  to  do  ?  "  she  moaned.  "  I  had  no 
friends  ;  I  was  ruined,  disgraced,  and  did  not  know 
where  to  turn.  Then  a  Chinaman  came  along.  He 
saw  me  in  the  street,  crying.  He  said,  '  Come  with 

N 


192  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

me  and  I  will  teach  you  to  forget.'  I  have  been  here 
ever  since,  and  here  I  will  remain  until  I  die.  At 
least  he  was  kind  to  me  and  gave  me  a  roof  over 
my  head  when  the  other  turned  me  out — and  I  have 
got  the  opium  !  I  know  it  won't  be  long,  but  I  want 
no  other  home  now." 

I  had  at  last  to  come  out  of  that  room  and  close 
the  door  on  that  piteous  wreck.  It  was  one  of  the 
saddest  experiences  of  my  life. 

The  U.S.  Administration  when  we  were  in  Washing- 
ton was  an  extremely  interesting  one.  Mr.  Roosevelt 
was  President,  Mr.  Taft  was  Minister  of  War,  and  Mr. 
Elihu  Root  Secretary  of  State.  As  my  husband  was 
in  charge  for  a  time  during  the  absence  of  our  Ambas- 
sador, Sir  Mortimer  Durand,  we  saw  a  good  deal  of 
them. 

The  President  had  a  magnetism  about  him  few 
could  resist.  He  was  full  of  that  quality  which  the 
French  call  joie  de  vivre,  and  appeared  to  put  his 
heart  and  soul  into  whatever  he  was  doing.  He  was 
a  very  keen  walker,  and  nothing  pleased  him  more 
than  to  settle  a  knotty  point  in  an  international 
question  by  getting  the  Ambassadors  to  discuss  it 
while  they  "  footed  "  it  together  in  the  Rock  Creek 
Park. 

His  enthusiasm  was  unbounded  and  his  impetuosity 
almost  equalled  that  of  the  ex-Kaiser.  In  fact,  he 
sometimes  struck  me  as  being  almost  too  impetuous 
for  a  great  statesman.  I  once  sat  at  dinner  next  a 
prominent  American,  and  he  summed  him  up  accord- 
ing to  his  idea  in  a  very  few  words.  "  Mr.  Roosevelt," 
he  said,  "  is  an  animated  impulse.  His  brainwaves 
cause  an  atmospheric  disturbance  without  conveying 
a  message." 


AMERICA  193 

His  wife  was  a -charming  woman,  and  will  be  kindly 
remembered  by  those  whom  she  entertained  so  pleas- 
antly at  the  White  House.  Her  daughter  Alice  was 
more  like  her  father — another  "  animated  impulse." 
When  we  first  went  to  Washington  she  had  just 
returned  from  her  royal  progress  round  the  world 
with  Mr.  Taft's  party.  During  the  course  of  it  "  Prin- 
cess Alice,"  as  she  came  to  be  generally  and  affec- 
tionately nicknamed,  received  tremendous  adulation 
wherever  she  went.  Her  minutest  comings  and  goings 
were  criticized  and  chronicled,  her  clothes  were  copied, 
her  manners  were  discussed,  even  her  slang  phrases 
passed  into  current  use,  and  the  shade  of  blue  which 
she  liked  was  named  after  her.  "  Alice  blue  "  for 
a  time  was  the  rage  in  the  United  States. 

Mr.  Taft,  Minister  of  War,  afterwards  President 
in  succession  to  his  great  friend  Roosevelt,  was  the 
most  charming  of  men,  the  friend  of  everybody.  An 
amusing  incident  I  must  here  relate  in  which  both 
were  concerned. 

There  was  at  that  time  a  journalist  in  Washington 
who  had  never  lost  a  chance  of  attacking  the  Adminis- 
tration. His  method  was  to  look  out  for  a  scandal, 
or  a  supposed  dereliction  of  ministerial  duty,  and 
to  marshal  the  facts  concerning  it  till  his  chance  came 
to  make  it  the  subject  of  an  attack  in  Congress  upon 
the  President  and  his  colleagues.  At  that  time  the 
Panama  Canal  was  being  built,  and  we  made  a  trip 
there  to  see  the  workings.  At  Colon  we  heard  from 
the  British  Consul  that  this  journalist  had  arrived 
and  was,  as  usual,  busily  employed  pickling  a  rod 
for  the  Administration. 

It  appeared  that  the  water-supply  in  Colon  was 
admittedly  bad,  and  that  no  orders  had  been  given 


194  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

to  remedy  a  state  of  things  which  was  a  real  danger 
to  the  workmen  employed  on  the  canal.  So  our 
friend  started  to  make  out  his  charge.  According 
to  him  Colon  was  "  an  unsanitary  hog-wallow,"  with 
no  proper  water-supply.  Ordinary  precautions 
against  the  grave  danger  to  the  labourers  arising 
from  this  source  had  been  neglected,  while  ridiculous 
provision,  indicative  of  midsummer  madness,  had 
been  made  for  their  comfort  by  stretching  an  awning 
over  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long  to  protect  their  heads 
from  the  rays  of  the  tropical  sun  while  they  worked. 
Finally  he  filled  a  bottle  with  the  water,  and  carried 
it  off  to  Jamaica  to  have  it  tested  there  by  the  British 
Government  analyst  with  the  idea  of  afterwards 
producing  this  piece  de  conviction  in  confirmation  of 
the  charges  he  intended  to  make. 

I  was  quite  distressed  to  hear  of  this  trouble  brewing 
for  the  President  and  Mr.  Taft,  and,  as  we  were  also 
going  on  from  Colon  to  Jamaica,  I  begged  Walter 
to  let  me  take  a  bottle  of  the  same  water  to  be  tested 
by  the  same  man,  thinking  that  our  friend  would 
exaggerate  his  Report  and  be  confounded  by  the 
production  of  mine. 

Alas  !  when  the  Report  reached  me  later  in  Washing- 
ton it  was  so  bad  that  my  proposed  line  of  defence 
there  and  then  fell  to  the  ground  J  .  "  Unfit  for  human 
consumption  "  was  the  damning  writing  on  the  bottle. 
In  a  letter  accompanying  this  verdict,  the  British 
analyst  proposed  a  system  of  filtration  through  gravel 
which  would  make  the  water  innocuous  until  a  more 
radical  cure  could  be  effected.  I  passed  on  his  letter 
to  Mr.  Taft. 

The  sequel  was  amusing.  The  journalist  brought 
his  terrible  charge  against  Mr.  Taft.  who,  rising  to 


AMERICA  195 

reply,  blandly  agreed  with  all  he  said,  but  added 
that  the  Government,  on  the  suggestion  of  so 
eminent  an  authority  as  the  British  Government 
analyst  in  Jamaica,  had  taken  remedial  measures 
which  were  proving  most  effectual ! 

A  few  days  later  we  lunched  at  the  White  House. 
I  sat  between  the  President  and  Mr.  Taft.  In  the 
middle  of  luncheon  Mr.  Roosevelt  leaned  across  me 
and,  in  his  unconventional  way,  addressed  Mr.  Taft : 
"  I  say,  William,  just  get  me  a  telegram  you  will 
find  in  the  pocket  of  my  coat  hanging  up  outside." 
Mr.  Taft  went  as  he  was  bid  and  returned  with  a 
telegram,  which  the  President  handed  to  me.  It 
was  from  Colon  to  say  that  the  sanitary  improvements 
were  in  hand  and  the  gravel  filter-beds  made.  "  You 
see  how  greatly  we  are  in  your  debt,  Lady  Susan," 
said  Roosevelt.  "  You  must  let  us  know  if  ever 
we  can  do  anything  for  you." 

Months  after,  a  young  American  of  our  acquaintance 
came  to  see  me.  He  was  ambitious  and  clever,  but 
having  no  influence  felt  he  would  never  get  on.  I 
remembered  the  President's  words,  and  wrote  to 
remind  him  of  them,  asking  if  he  could  not  do  some- 
thing for  our  young  friend.  A  little  while  after  we 
heard  that  he  had  appointed  him  to  a  good  post  in 
the  Far  East.  Thus  did  I  get  my  reward. 

The  official  Receptions  at  the  White  House  appeared 
very  quaint  to  those  who  assisted  at  them  for  the 
first  time.  Everybody  went  who  wanted  to  go,  and 
there  was  a  go-as-you-please  atmosphere  about  the 
whole  entertainment  that  seemed  ultra-democratic 
to  us  Europeans.  The  guests  wore  morning  or  evening 
dress  according  to  choice.  But  Mr.  Roosevelt,  stand- 
ing with  Mrs.  Roosevelt  behind  a  red  rope  stretched 


196  c  INDISCRETIONS ' 

from  the  door  across  the  large  drawing-room  at  the 
White  House,  in  which  these  receptions  were  held, 
was  on  these  occasions  more  than  imperial  in  manner. 
We  all  filed  past  them,  shaking  hands  with  the  Presi- 
dent— in  at  one  door,  out  at  the  other.  Afterwards 
people  collected  in  a  further  drawing-room  and  stayed 
talking  in  groups  while  refreshments  were  handed 
round. 

One  cannot  live  long  in  America  without  discover- 
ing that  one  of  the  essential  qualities  making  for 
social  success  in  that  country  is  publicity.  One  must 
catch  the  eye  of  the  Public,  a  smart  woman  must 
figure  daily  in  the  fashionable  Press.  We  are  getting 
rather  like  that  in  England  nowadays.  Shortly  after 
our  arrival  in  Washington,  I  unwillingly,  and  to  my 
cost,  achieved  that  object. 

Day  and  night,  American  journalists  on  the  quest 
for  sensational  paragraphs  rang  me  up  on  the  tele- 
phone. Not  yet  having  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
this  friendly  invasion  of  the  privacy  of  life,  I  resented 
it  and,  mistaking  for  intrusion  what  I  afterward  dis- 
covered to  be  a  warranted  licence,  I  was  unfortunate 
enough  to  offend  a  horrible  little  society  paper  at 
the  very  outset  of  my  stay  in  America  by  "  pulling 
the  leg  "  of  one  of  its  reporters.  He  annoyed  me  by 
getting  me  out  of  bed  after  midnight  to  inquire  on 
the  telephone  whether  I  intended  to  entertain  in 
America,  and  if  so,  what  form  my  entertainments 
would  take. 

On  the  spur  of  the  moment  I  answered  that  I  thought 
of  continuing  in  America  my  series  of  "Octaves.'* 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  queried  the  puzzled  reporter. 
"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  you  can't  be  so  behind  the  times 
in  this  country  as  never  to  have  heard  of  '  Lady 


AMERICA  197 

Susan's  Octaves.'    Why,  they  are  known  and  dis- 
cussed all  over  Europe  !  " 

"  Indeed !  This  is  most  interesting.  Please  tell 
me  about  them,"  begged  the  excited  pressman, 
scenting  a  sensational  paragraph  for  his  paper. 

So  I  told  him  about  them  !  "  Oh,  my  Octaves," 
I  said  airily,  "  are  merely  little  dinners  of  eight  given 
every  eight  days  to  eight  selected  guests.  Eight 
viands  are  served  and  eight  wines  drunk,  whilst  the 
eight  chief  topics  of  the  moment  are  discussed.  I 
am  surprised  that  you  have  not  heard  of  them  over 
here."  I  was  merely  chaffing,  of  course,  but  in  a 
country  where  all  sorts  of  social  extravagance  is  the 
rule  my  nonsense  was  taken  at  its  face  value  and  the 
rumour  of  the  coming  Octaves  was  spread.  When 
it  was  discovered  that  I  had  been  "  fooling  "  one  of 
the  clan  of  reporters,  they  doubtless  resolved  to  get 
back  on  me,  to  use  one  of  their  own  favourite  ex- 
pressions, and  in  this  direction  achieved  "  some  " 
success. 

From  that  day  they  never  spared  me,  and  I  became 
the  constant  butt  for  their  gibes  and  comments. 

I  had  a  severe  motor  accident  in  Washington,  which 
left  me  unconscious  for  many  hours  with  concussion 
of  the  brain. 

The  sympathetic  reference  made  to  this  incident 
in  the  Press  was  that  "  sprit ely  Lady  Susan  had 
received  a  salutary  lesson."  This  would  not  have 
mattered  had  not  advantage  been  taken  of  the  occa- 
sion to  start  a  cruel  and  perfectly  baseless  rumour 
to  the  effect  that  I  did  not  get  on  with  my  chef-esse 
Lady  Durand,  wife  of  the  Ambassador,  Sir  Mortimer, 
whose  recall  from  his  post  I  was  said  to  be  plot- 
ting. 


198 


'  INDISCRETIONS  ' 


Paragraphs  like  the  following  constantly  appeared : 
"  Lady  Susan  is  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  Lady  Durand. 
It  is  not  causing  deep  sorrow  that  the  hated  rival  is 
eclipsed  for  the  nonce."  This  was  at  the  time  of  my 
accident.  Or  again  :  "  She  (Lady  S.  T.)  declines  to 
walk  into  dinner  after  Lady  Durand,  who  is  the  daughter 
of  a  Church  of  England  curate.  She  disdains  also 


"  PETTICOAT  "  INFLUENCE. 

(Amongst  other  things,  I  am  credited  with  having  "  wangled  " 
the  recall  of  the  British  Ambassador.) 

to  play  second  fiddle  to  the  wives  of  Senators  or  any 
mere  Commoner,  and  Washington  hostesses  are  in 
despair." 

They  immortalized  my  social  ambition  as  a  would- 
be  leader  of  fashion,  publishing  a  caricature  of  me 
as  an  over-dressed  puppet,  dragging  along  two  marion- 
ettes at  the  end  of  a  string.  Underneath  this  work  of 


AMERICA  199 

art  figured  the  legend,  "  Lady  Susan  leads  the  fashion." 
Other  tit-bits  such  as  the  following  were  offered 
to  the  American  reading  public :  "  Lady  Susan  allows 
her  wit  to  flow  unrestrained — American  institutions 
generally  stimulate  her  conversational  attractiveness. 
A  dinner-party  was  astounded  recently  by  a  remark 
of  hers  that  the  greatest  circus  in  America  was  the 
White  House."  I  was  credited  also  with  saying  of 
two  well-known  Senators  that  "  their  toothpicks 
alone  would  keep  them  out  of  the  homes  of  even  the 
middle  classes  of  England." 

Such  bad  taste  would  not  have  mattered  had  not 
The  Times  in  England  seen  fit  to  take  up  the  matter. 
They  published  an  article  from  their  own  correspondent 
in  Washington  in  which,  referring  to  our  Ambassador's 
retirement,  the  words  occurred:  "The  Spring-field  Re- 
publican, one  of  the  most  trustworthy  and  influential 
newspapers  in  this  country,  says  that  Lady  Susan 
Townley  must  share  with  the  President  the  doubtful 
honour  of  having  caused  the  retirement  of  Sir  Mortimer 
Durand." 

This  was  too  much  even  for  my  long-suffering 
husband,  who  was  beginning  to  tire  of  this  Press, 
campaign  against  his  wife  in  a  country  in  which, 
as  a  member  of  the  corps  diplomatique,  she  ought 
to  have  been  immune  from  such  attacks.  He  asked 
and  obtained  leave  to  go  home  and  there  approached 
the  Foreign  Office  with  a  view  to  their  taking  up  the 
matter  officially.  A  leading  lawyer  in  the  States 
had  assured  us  that  we  could  get  record  damages  if 
we  chose  to  bring  an  action  for  libel  against  some  of  the 
papers  concerned.  But  the  Foreign  Office  advised 
my  husband  to  do  nothing,  and  this  advice  he  was 
obliged  in  his  official  position  to  accept ! 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  ARGENTINE 

Racing  in  the  Argentine — "  The  wickedest  city  in  the  world  " — 
The  prudishness  of  Argentine  women — Love-making  as  it 
is  done — A  delightful  visit  to  a  great  estancia — A  remarkable 
Devonshire  family  and  how  the  father  of  it  was  tamed. 

TO  reach  the  Argentine,  which  is  only  a  little 
over  6,000  miles  from  home,  takes  twenty-one 
days  of  comfortable  and  leisurely  travelling,  but  if  the 
great  steamship  companies  would  consent  to  run  fast 
tourist  steamers  from  London,  the  great  city  of  Buenos 
Ayres  could  easily  be  reached  in  two  weeks. 

We  were  in  "  B.A.,"  as  it  is  familiarly  known  to 
its  British  friends,  for  over  four  years,  and  during 
that  time  got  to  know  and  like  it  well.  It  is  in  extent 
and  population  not  only  the  premier  city  of  South 
America,  but,  after  Paris,  the  premier  city  of  the 
Latin  world.  Our  first  days  after  arriving  there  on 
Christmas  Day,  1906,  were  spent  in  exploring  our  new 
surroundings. 

The  opera  house,  called  the  Teatro  Colon,  one  of 
many  beautiful  buildings  in  Buenos  Ayres,  is  probably 
the  largest  theatre  in  the  world,  and  equipped  most 
luxuriously.  The  musical  performances  are  first  class, 
as  all  the  European  "  star  "  artists  visit  the  Argentine 
capital  and  receive  remuneration  which  even  in  a 
land  of  millionaires  is  startling. 

200 


THE  ARGENTINE  201 

Calle  Florida,  the  Bond  Street  of  Buenos  Ayres, 
contains  the  jewel  of  the  town,  the  magnificent  and 
wealthy  Jockey  Club,  perhaps  the  finest  club-house 
in  the  world.  The  magnificence  of  this  building,  with 
its  wide,  pillared,  green  marble  staircase,  its  luxurious 
banqueting-rooms  (the  furniture  of  one  of  these  was 
taken  over  in  its  entirety  from  an  old  French  chateau), 
its  library,  Turkish  baths,  fencing-hall,  gymnasium, 
and  roof  garden,  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 
The  entrance  fee  is  £300,  and  when  we  were  in  Buenos 
Ayres  there  was  some  talk  of  raising  it  still  higher  to 
try,  if  possible,  to  cope  with  the  numbers  of  aspirant 
members.  The  income  of  the  club  is  enormous, 
depending  as  it  does  not  only  on  the  race-course,  but 
also  on  the  takings  of  the  pari  mutuel  at  the  bi-weekly 
meetings  at  Palermo. 

Practically  everybody  attends  the  races,  and  prob- 
ably everybody  present  has  a  bet  on  each  of  the 
seven  races  on  the  card.  Racing  is  one  of  the  most 
delightful  pastimes  of  this  gay  city.  Some  of  the 
best  of  our  English  thoroughbred  sires  have  found 
their  way  to  Buenos  Ayres,  notably  Diamond  Jubilee, 
belonging  to  Mr.  Correas ;  Val  D'Or,  owned  by  Mr. 
Saturnino  ;  Unzue,  Cyllene,  bought  by  the  Ojo  de 
Agua  stud;  Craganour,  by  Mr.  Martinez  de  Hoz. 
Huge  prices  are  given  for  these  horses.  When 
Ormonde  went  to  the  Argentine  he  fetched  the  then 
record  sum  of  £30,000. 

The  Avenida  Alvear,  the  drive  from  the  town 
to  the  race-course,  is  a  broad,  shaded  avenue  through 
the  Hyde  Park  of  Palermo,  flanked,  when  it  is  dear 
of  the  town,  by  green  lawns  and  brilliant  flower- 
beds. The  crowd  of  vehicles  of  all  kinds  that  con- 
gests the  road  on  a  race  day  beggars  description. 


202  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

The  race-course  at  Palermo  is  the  last  word  in  luxury. 
The  buildings,  all  white  in  their  setting  of  green, 
are  very  attractive,  and  the  Jockey  Club  stand, 
chiefly  made  of  white  marble,  is  the  most  sumptuous 
building  of  the  kind  I  have  seen  in  any  country. 

Indeed,  racing  in  the  Argentine  is  easier  and  more 
comfortably  done  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world. 
One  sits  in  one  of  the  luxuriously  furnished  rooms 
at  the  back  of  the  stand,  or  on  the  balcony  when  the 
time  for  the  racing  arrives,  and  one  bets  on  the  pan 
mutuel  through  one  of  the  Jockey  Club  servants, 
who  buys  one's  tickets,  and  afterwards  collects  one's 
money  if  one  has  been  fortunate  enough  to  pick  a 
winner. 

Then  one  sits  and  watches  the  parade  of  the  horses, 
which,  with  their  numbers  plainly  embroidered  on 
both  sides  of  their  saddlecloths,  walk  past  the  stand 
and  canter  back  to  the  starting-post.  (An  innovation 
lately  introduced  on  English  race-courses.)  One  can 
thus  see  the  horses  moving  before  betting,  and  can 
back  one's  own  judgment.  I  was  rather  good  at 
this,  and  once  was  lucky  enough  to  pick  out  a 
winner  at  the  handsome  price  of  270  to  i.  I  believe 
that  was  a  record. 

The  Argentines  are  a  very  sporting  people,  and 
it  is  probably  this  inborn  feature  of  their  character 
which  has  attracted  so  many  British  people  to  their 
country.  Football  is  a  favourite  pastime  with  them — 
also  rowing.  A  fashionable  rowing  centre  called  the 
Tigre,  a  summer  resort  about  twenty  miles  from 
the  city,  has  been  called  the  Henley  of  the  Argentine, 
and  anyone  who  has  witnessed  the  brilliant  scene 
and  vast  crowds  at  the  annual  regattas  there  must 
admit  that  the  description  is  not  inept. 


THE  ARGENTINE  203 

Cricket  and  golf  are  making  great  strides.  First- 
class  polo  is  played,  not  only  in  the  vicinity  of  Buenos 
Ayres,  at  Palermo  and  the  English  Club  called 
Hurlingham,  but  all  over  the  country.  Nearly  all 
the  principal  estancias  have  their  polo  teams,  and 
many  interesting  meetings  are  held.  Followers  of 
the  game  in  England  will  probably  remember  the 
successes  at  Ranelagh,  Roehampton  and  Hurlingham 
of  the  Argentine  teams  "  Wild  Horse  Ranch  "  and 
"  Baguel,"  in  which  figured  such  names  as  Scott- 
Robson,  Traill,  [and  Schwind.  Soon  genuine  home- 
bred Argentines  will  take  their  place  in  the  polo 
world. 

Tennis,  hockey,  boxing  and  fencing  are  also  favourite 
pastimes  of  the  Argentines,  who  take  even  their  games 
seriously,  and  for  practically  all  their  sports  have 
the  services  of  English  professional  trainers. 

Argentine  women  are  extremely  beautiful,  with  dark 
hair  and  velvet  eyes  to  match.  They  dress  very 
well,  and  get  most  of  their  wardrobe  in  Paris, 
that  beloved  second  home  of  most  of  them,  from 
which  they  are  seldom  absent  more  than  a  year  at 
a  time.  I  am  speaking,  of  course,  of  the  wealthier 
women.  They  have  the  Southerners'  charm  also, 
and  are  so  hospitably  inclined  that  they  carry 
out  almost  to  the  letter  the  ideal  hospitality  of 
the  old  Spanish  hidalgo  typified  in  the  words 
still  so  generally  heard  in  the  Argentine,  "  Mi  casa 
es  a  su  disposicion  "  ("  My  house  is  at  your  dis- 
posal"). 

Argentine  women  are  famed  for  their  magnificent 
jewels,  even  in  such  bejewelled  social  centres  as 
Paris  and  London.  Yet  in  Buenos  Ayres  these  jewels 
are  seldom  en  evidence  even  at  the  opera.  The 


204  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

reason  is  that,  being  so  valuable,  their  care  necessi- 
tates precautions  which  are  difficult  to  take  in  a 
town  where  much  that  is  primitive  still  exists  and 
where  burglars  and  bad  characters  escaped  from 
Europe  abound.  The  ladies  prefer  to  have  their 
beautiful  jewels  in  the  safe  keeping  of  a  London  or 
Paris  bank,  where  they  can  easily  be  claimed  on 
their  owners'  arrival  in  Europe.  Another  cause  for 
this  habit  is  to  be  found,  I  think,  in  the  very  damp 
atmosphere  prevailing  in  Buenos  Ayres  during  a 
long  portion  of  the  year.  This  makes  it  difficult  to 
keep  the  jewels  as  brilliant  and  brightly  polished  as 
we  keep  them  in  England.  Dimmed  jewels  lose  half 
their  charm.  Even  the  United  States  women  must 
give  points  to  the  Argentines  in  the  matter  of  diamonds 
and  pearl  necklaces. 

The  Argentine  Senora  relies  much  upon  artificial 
help  for  enhancing  her  natural  charms.  I  remember  it 
was  at  dinner  in  the  restaurant  of  one  of  the  smartest 
Buenos  Ayres  hotels  that  I  saw  for  the  first  time  what 
has  now  become,  alas  !  a  common  sight  at  our  own 
dinner-tables,  namely,  a  society  woman  taking  out 
her  mirror,  powder-puff,  and  lip-salve  to  "  titivate  " 
her  face  between  two  courses.  This  was  in  the  year 
1908,  and  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  it  done 
at  home  or  abroad. 

That  a  custom  now  so  universal  in  some  circles 
should  have  shocked  me  so  genuinely  at  the  time 
shows  how  much  society  manners  have  changed  in 
the  last  few  years.  I  remember  speaking  of  this 
little  incident  to  an  Argentine  woman  who  had  been 
present  (with  some  irony,  I  admit,  as  she  was  herself 
highly  "  got  up  "),  and  I  recollect  still  with  a  smile 
the  ingenuous  answer  she  made  :  "  Oui,  chere  madame, 


THE  ARGENTINE  205 

c'etait  vraiment  choquant !  Ma  chere  mere  m'a 
tou jours  dit  qu'il  ne  fallait  toucher  la  figure  qu'avec 
le  coude  !  ' 

It  amused  me  at  the  races  to  meet  a  really  smart 
woman  with  fair  curls  one  day  and  auburn  locks  the 
next.  But  I  was  told  that  this  was  a  licence  permitted 
to  women  in  that  country  where,  until  a  short  time 
before,  the  "  fringe  "  had  formed  part  of  the  hat, 
these  being  attached  to  each  other  and  combined 
to  form  the  best  colour  scheme.  This  habit  has  passed 
away  now  and  my  Argentine  friends,  resting  on 
their  laurels  as  the  best-dressed  women  in  the  world, 
will  pardon  my  allusion  to  it. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  Buenos  Ayres  is  the  wicked- 
est city  in  the  world.  So  it  may  be  for  all  I  know, 
and  I  daresay  it  would  not  mind  pleading  guilty 
to  so  fashionable  an  indictment.  But  certainly  I 
never  saw  anything  of  this,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
the  Argentine  woman  in  Society  had  no  part  in  making 
this  reputation  for  Buenos  Ayres. 

Argentine  women  are  the  best  wives  and  mothers 
in  the  world,  and  have  in  this  dual  capacity  only 
one  fault — namely,  that  they  spoil  their  menfolk 
and  their  children.  At  that  they  really  do  excel ! 
The  atmosphere  of  a  Buenos  Ayres  "  home  "  is  quite 
delightful,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  admitted  to 
its  intimacy.  But  as  for  anything  in  the  way  of 
"  fastness,"  I  never  knew  a  genuine  case  of  it  that 
was  not  socially  ostracized  in  that  country.  The 
Argentine's  wife  is  like  Caesar's,  "  above  reproach," 
or  she  ceases  to  figure  in  the  social  gatherings  of 
Society. 

Indeed,  my  husband  used  to  consider  it  rather  a 
drawback  that  the  ladies  were  too  strait-laced  to  allow 


206  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

him  to  frequent  their  charming  society  on  the  race- 
course or  at  their  own  tea-parties.  Women  cluster 
together  at  the  races,  and  few  are  the  men  brave  enough 
to  break  their  magic  circle.  As  for  the  "  paddock," 
they  are  never  seen  there,  the  idea  being  that  they 
ought  not  to  expose  themselves  to  the  possible  con- 
tact of  the  Longchamps  "  mannequin  "  type,  who 
on  their  part  are  confined  to  that  part  of  the  race- 
course instead  of  being  allowed,  as  with  us,  to  flaunt 
their  charms  in  the  enclosures. 

Marriages  in  the  Argentine  are  to  a  great  extent 
"  arranged  "  as  in  France,  and  to  me  it  appears  that 
this  often  answers  well  and  conduces  to  happiness. 
For  the  parents  on  both  sides  study  the  characters, 
disposition,  and  financial  prospects  of  the  couple, 
and  so  are  admirably  qualified  to  bring  them  together 
under  the  happiest  auspices.  But  the  young  people 
ought  to  be  left,  I  think,  after  the  parents'  blessing 
has  been  given,  to  become  engaged  or  not  as  they 
please,  and  there  should  be  no  reflection  on  either 
party  if,  after  nearer  acquaintance,  they  fail  to  embark 
on  matrimony. 

In  the  Argentine,  although  marriages  are  often 
arranged  on  these  lines,  a  curious  latitude  is  given 
in  one  respect  which  makes  courtship  in  that  country 
unique.  At  the  opera  or  in  a  big  theatre  or  other 
place  of  entertainment  the  custom  is  for  all  the 
unmarried  girls  to  be  placed  in  the  front  row  of  the 
boxes,  their  parents  and  male  friends  sitting  behind. 
This  habit,  which  results  in  a  very  brilliant  and 
delightful  display  of  youthful  charm,  has  an  object 
which  becomes  apparent  only  when  one  notes  the 
young  men  in  the  house,  between  the  acts,  leaning 
against  the  exits,  staring  these  young  women  out  of 


THE  ARGENTINE  207 

countenance,    sometimes    even    using    their    opera- 
glasses. 

The  young  women,  fully  aware  of  the  scrutiny  they 
are  being  subjected  to,  and  nothing  loth,  permit  their 
gaze  also  to  wander  over  the  floor  of  the  house,  until 
the  glance  of  one  of  them  is  suddenly  "  arrested  "  by  a 
young  man  more  well-favoured  or  pleasing  to  her  than 
the  rest.  If  the  girl  then  allows  her  eye  to  be  "  caught," 
and  the  young  man  can  hold  it,  there  is  ipso  facto 
established  between  them  what  is  known  in  the 
Argentine  as  telegrafia  sin  hilos  (wireless  telegraphy). 
Once  the  young  man  is  satisfied  that  he  has  estab- 
lished this,  he  makes  it  his  business  to  find  out  the 
number  of  the  box  in  which  the  fair  one  sits,  and 
having  previously  secured  an  older  friend  to  accom- 
pany him  in  the  probable  event  of  his  not  knowing 
the  family,  he  is  introduced  to  the  parents  of  the 
girl,  who  in  their  turn  present  him  to  her. 

The  two  young  people  are  then  allowed  to  converse 
together  alone.  If,  at  the  end  of  the  entertainment, 
they  wish  to  continue  the  acquaintance,  the  young 
man  asks  her  parents'  permission  to  call  and  pay 
his  respects,  and  this  being  granted,  he  becomes  a 
friend  of  the  house  and  the  acquaintance  often  ends 
in  matrimony. 

I  never  heard  of  this  custom  in  any  other  country, 
and  I  think  it  must  be  of  Spanish  origin  and  must 
have  much  in  it  of  the  sentiment  attaching  to  a 
balcony  courtship  in  fair  Granada. 

The  national  trait  of  "  hospitality  "  was  carried, 
in  our  case,  to  its  finest  point  by  Don  Miguel  Martinez 
de  Hoz  and  his  charming  wife,  who  entertained  us 
for  one  whole  summer  in  their  delightful  home  near 
Mar  del  Plata. 

o 


208  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Don  Miguel  Alfredo  is  well  known  in  English  hunting, 
coaching  and  racing  circles.  He  was  educated  in 
England,  for  which  he  has  a  great  affection,  so  great 
that  he  and  his  wife,  Dona  Julie  Helena,  actually 
transplanted  their  home  to  London  for  seven  years, 
so  that  their  two  boys  should  be  entirely  educated 
at  Eton.  It  proves,  I  think,  how  very  deep-rooted 
are  the  national  traits  in  the  Argentine  character 
that  these  boys,  brought  over  here  young  enough 
to  begin  their  education  at  a  private  school,  and  kept 
here  through  an  Eton  and  University  career,  neverthe- 
less returned  to  their  own  country  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  having  lost  nothing  of  their  national  character 
and  patriotism.  Although  they  both  speak  English 
perfectly,  and  distinguished  themselves  at  polo,  being 
perfect  horsemen,  as  most  Argentines  are,  although 
they  had  made  scores  of  friends  here  and  could  have 
lived  in  ease  and  luxury  in  the  land  of  their  education, 
they  nevertheless  returned  with  enthusiasm  to  the 
country  of  their  birth,  where  they  are  now  living 
on  their  vast  estancias,  helping  their  father,  our 
original  friend,  to  carry  on  the  old  traditions. 

Chapadmalal,  where  we  spent  a  happy  summer  as 
their  guest,  is  admittedly  one  of  the  best  of  the 
estancias  in  the  country.  The  Argentine,  descended 
from  Spanish  hidalgos,  has  never  mixed  in  business. 
His  wealth  in  most  cases  comes  chiefly  from  the  land. 
He  lives  on  it,  as  in  the  case  of  these  friends  of  ours, 
in  a  manner  more  simple  and  economical  than  we  do 
in  England  under  much  less  favourable  financial 
circumstances.  So  it  is  that  the  de  Hoz,  who  are 
very  wealthy,  live  in  a  patriarchal  manner  in  a  beauti- 
ful house  built  by  themselves  and  filled  with  beautiful 
things,  set  down  in  a  park  belted  by  fir  and  eucalyptus 


THE  ARGENTINE  209 

trees,  but  with  no  show  whatever  in  the  way  of 
liveried  servants  and  smart  carriages. 

The  estancia  covers  64,000  acres  of  land,  100  square 
miles,  and  is  not  far  from  Mar  del  Plata,  the  fashion- 
able watering-place  of  the  country.  It  took  us 
a  whole  night's  journey  by  train  to  get  there  from 
Buenos  Ayres.  We  were  met  at  the  Mar  del  Plata 
station  by  an  omnibus  with  four  horses,  and  soon 
after  leaving  the  town  found  ourselves  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  Chapadmalal  estate,  whence  a  good 
twelve-mile  drive  lay  before  us  to  the  house. 

This  drive  was  over  a  very  wide  grass  track,  very 
bumpy  in  places  and  hedged  off  with  barbed  wire 
from  the  immense  grass  lands  on  either  side.  A 
private  telephone  wire  connected  the  estancia  with 
Mar  del  Plata. 

The  whole  country  was  slightly  undulating,  like 
the  Berkshire  Downs,  and  everywhere  immense  herds 
of  horses,  cattle  and  sheep  wandered  about  appar- 
ently untended.  Just  as  we  were  beginning  to  feel 
tired  and  hungry,  we  saw  a  big  belt  of  fir-trees  in 
the  distance,  which  the  driver  pointed  out  to  us  as 
being  our  destination,  and,  soon  after,  we  entered 
through  a  five-barred  gate  into  a  fine  avenue  of  trees, 
which  led  us  through  a  park  up  to  the  house  itself, 
a  charming  white  castellated  villa.  Our  host  and 
hostess  were  waiting  on  the  doorstep  to  welcome  us. 
We  found  ourselves  in  a  quite  English  house,  filled 
with  lovely  Queen  Anne  and  Chippendale  furniture, 
with  English  prints  on  the  walls  and  a  good  wood 
fire  blazing  on  the  hearth. 

So  began  one  of  the  most  delightful  visits  we  ever 
enjoyed,  even  in  the  extensive  and  varied  wanderings 
in  many  lands  which  has  been  our  lot.  We  had 


2io  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

every  variety  of  sport  imaginable.  One  day  we 
shot  partridges  and  duck  ;  another  day  we  had  some 
deep-sea  fishing,  for  the  estancia  runs  along  the 
seashore ;  another  day  we  mounted,  and  coursed 
hares. 

We  inspected  fat  pedigree  cattle,  prize  shire  horses, 
hackneys  and  sheep.  We  saw  hundreds  of  breeding 
mares  and  polo  ponies  ;  we  were  taken  to  see  the 
pedigree  shire  horse  sires,  all  imported  from  England, 
the  pedigree  shorthorn  bull,  also  imported  from  here, 
and  the  pedigree  racing  sires,  among  which  figured 
Craganour. 

The  riding  was  what  pleased  me  most.  Don 
Miguel  Alfredo  had  numberless  thoroughbred  horses 
for  riding,  all  grass  fed  and  all  undipped !  Not 
smart  if  you  like,  but  beneath  a  dirty,  thick  coat 
was  a  really  well-broken  animal.  He  tries  all  sorts 
of  combinations  in  horsebreeding. 

In  one  case  the  union  between  a  hackney  sire  and 
a  Shetland  mare,  both  pedigree  animals,  produced  a 
i2-hand  pony  with  very  big  bone,  immensely  high 
action,  and  a  sweeping  mane  and  tail.  Don  Miguel 
drove  four  of  these  little  beggars,  who  were  very 
strong  and  pulled  like  the  devil,  in  a  double  dog- 
cart. He  gave  me  my  first  lesson  in  four-in-hand 
driving,  sitting  behind  them.  He  afterwards  brought 
them  to  London.  After  being  clipped  and  properly 
got  up,  they  were  as  smart  a  little  team  in  their 
double  dogcart  as  one  could  wish  to  drive.  I  used 
often  to  have  them  out  in  Hyde  Park,  where  they 
created  quite  a  sensation. 

The  bulls  were  much  more  carefully  tended  as  far 
as  appearances  went,  especially  those  being  got  up 
for  show.  Their  horns  were  trimmed,  sand-papered 


THE  ARGENTINE  211 

and  polished,  and  they  were  washed  every  morning 
with  a  hose  with  soap  and  soft  water,  and  afterwards 
brushed  and  combed.  Don  Miguel  had  a  theory 
that  rainwater  made  their  coats  more  silky,  and 
certainly  they  responded  to  the  treatment. 

Amongst  many  friends  we  made  in  the  Argentine 
was  a  family  of  British  estancieros,  to  visit  whom 
we  embarked  upon  a  three  days'  ride  from  Neuquen, 
through  a  desert  so  hot  that  we  suffered  terribly 
in  traversing  it.  The  hospitable  estancia,  in  which 
we  stayed  in  comparative  clover,  having  plenty  to 
eat  and  a  roof  over  our  heads,  belonged  to  four  brothers 
who  drifted  into  this  part  of  the  world  with  their 
father  and  mother  as  boys.  The  father  must  have 
been  very  eccentric.  He  was  at  one  time  a  fashionable 
London  doctor.  He  came  of  a  Devonshire  family 
and  had  possessed  an  annual  income  of  £10,000, 
which  he  squandered.  Eventually  he  married  a 
charming,  gentle  and  cultured  lady,  who  possessed 
a  highly  developed  artistic  temperament,  and  was 
the  author  of  many  songs  and  verses  which  were 
at  one  time  very  popular.  They  lived  for  some  time 
at  Brighton,  then  in  London,  and  four  children  were 
born,  all  of  them  boys. 

Their  education  seems  to  have  been  the  object  of 
very  misguided  attention  on  their  father's  part,  and 
his  methods  must  have  cost  many  a  pang  to  their 
sweet  mother.  That  the  boys  should  be  hardened 
was  his  main  idea.  In  our  days  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children  would  undoubtedly 
have  stepped  in  to  modify  his  system  of  education, 
but  in  those  days  he  was  left  a  free  hand.  To  swim 
out  to  sea  at  Brighton  clinging  to  the  tail  of  a  great 
St.  Bernard  dog,  to  be  left  on  the  Strand  to  the 


212  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

care  of  the  successive  policemen  on  the  beat  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  to  be  made  to  jump  from  any  height 
on  to  the  hard  ground — such  were  his  "  hardening  " 
methods ! 

Having  run  through  all  his  fortune  and  lost  his 
London  practice  as  a  consequence  of  some  unfortunate 
spiritualistic  experiment,  which  made  much  noise 
at  the  time  and  ended  in  the  mysterious  death  of 
the  medium,  he  decided  to  leave  England  with  his 
whole  family  and  start  "  treking  "  in  South  America. 
For  this  purpose  he  had  four  huge  caravan  wagons 
constructed  and  fitted  up  regardless  of  expense  as 
kitchen,  study  and  dormitories.  Books  and  a  piano 
were  considered  indispensable  furniture,  and  all  else 
was  taken  that  might  enhance  the  family's  comfort. 

Arrived  in  South  America,  they  began  their  wander- 
ing life,  moving  at  a  slow  pace,  the  wagons  drawn 
by  oxen  and  the  caravan  accompanied  by  spare  horses 
and  mules  for  riding  purposes.  Six  huge  St.  Bernard 
dogs  also  formed  part  of  this  curious  menagerie,  and 
a  bulldog  so  fierce  that  he  eventually  had  to  be 
destroyed  as  too  expensive  on  account  of  the  damages 
his  fighting  expeditions  resulted  in.  Fighting  cocks 
also  were  included,  all  these  animals  tending  to  indicate 
by  their  own  savageness  the  nature  of  the  man  who 
headed  this  expedition. 

For  seven  years  the  family  wandered  aimlessly  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  their  leader.  One  of  his  peculiarities 
was  that,  having  been  for  some  part  of  his  youth  at 
sea,  he  had  contracted  certain  nautical  notions.  He 
insisted,  for  instance,  upon  having  the  wagons  drawn 
up  north  and  south,  and  would  not  rest  till  they  had 
been  shifted  by  endless  labour  into  the  exact  position 
required.  One  can  imagine  the  irascible  old  man 


THE  ARGENTINE  213 

stamping  about  in  the  dust,  furiously  directing  opera- 
tions, compass  in  hand,  that  his  quaint  whim  might 
be  satisfied.  A  pole  then  had  to  be  erected  from  which 
the  British  Flag  was  flown.  If  the  Argentine  authori- 
ties resented  this  and  requested  that  their  national 
flag  might  be  flown  with  it,  he  answered  them  furiously 
that  he  was  an  Englishman  and  that  if  they  wished 
to  lower  his  flag  they  had  better  come  and  do  it. 

The  night  was  divided  nautical  fashion  into  watches, 
which  the  "  peons  "  (camp  servants)  had  to  keep,  the 
sons  being  officers  of  the  watch  and  responsible  for 
any  failure  of  duty  on  their  part.  Their  welcome  at 
the  pueblos  (villages)  they  reached  in  the  course  of 
these  wanderings  was  varied.  At  one  place  they  would 
be  taken  for  a  travelling  circus  and  received  with 
the  greatest  joy  ;  at  other  places  the  gravest  suspicions 
were  excited  by  so  unusual  a  spectacle,  and  an  armed 
reception  was  all  that  awaited  them,  blows  being 
given  and  received  in  their  efforts  to  establish  a  footing 
and  obtain  water  and  other  necessaries.  At  other 
times  they  were  given  a  grand  official  welcome  as 
"  strangers  of  distinction,"  and  on  these  occasions  would 
be  received  to  the  jubilant  strains  of  the  village  band. 

In  conformity  with  the  customs  of  the  country, 
the  four  sons  had  to  be  turned  into  "gauchos"  (rough- 
riders)  capable  of  taming  the  wildest  horse,  and  shift- 
ing for  themselves  in  the  tightest  corners.  In  pursu- 
ance of  this  object  they  were  placed  upon  untamed 
horses  by  their  determined  father  and  told  to  stick 
there.  If  they  fell  off,  they  had  to  climb  back  until 
they  succeeded  in  sticking  there ;  if  they  clutched 
the  mane  or  tried  to  cling  to  the  animal  with  anything 
but  their  legs,  their  stern  parent,  who  stood  by  sjam- 
bok in  hand,  soon  loosened  their  grip.  Tears  were  not 


214  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

allowed — at  least  no  audible  lamentation.  "If  you 
must  cry,"  he  would  say,  "  let  your  eyes  leak,  but  I 
must  hear  no  sound  !  " 

Imagine  the  feelings  of  the  mother  who  looked  on 
at  this  Spartan  education,  unable  to  interfere.  Seven 
years  passed  thus,  and  this  never-ending  "  trek " 
continued  uninterruptedly  through  province  after 
province.  The  boys  were  educated  by  tutors  who  for 
a  short  time  joined  the  caravan  and  instilled  into  them 
what  knowledge  they  could,  but  they  seem  to  have 
been  as  wild  as  hawks. 

At  last  the  eldest  of  our  hosts,  Don  Tomaso,  grew 
to  man's  estate.  He  had  begun  this  life  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  and  was  thoroughly  sick  of  living  in  such 
gipsy  fashion.  He  determined  for  his  mother's  sake, 
as  much  as  for  that  of  his  brothers,  that  a  change 
must  be  made.  So  he  stood  up  to  his  father  and 
boldly  spoke  his  mind,  announcing  that  he  and  his 
brothers  were  determined  to  run  away  sooner  than 
continue  to  lead  such  a  life,  and  that  land  must  be 
bought  somewhere,  he  didn't  care  where,  and  the 
family  wagons  anchored  for  good. 

He  expected  to  be  annihilated  by  his  enraged  father, 
but  to  his  great  surprise  the  proposal  was  calmly 
accepted.  "  All  right,  Thomas,  if  you  think  so,  I 
suppose  it  must  be  so,"  said  the  father.  '  You  find 
the  land  and  I'll  find  the  money." 

And  he  did  find  the  land,  in  the  very  country  where 
the  family  now  prosperously  presides  over  ten  leagues 
of  camp,  the  value  of  which  has  trebled  since  they 
bought  it.  A  house  (the  old  part  of  the  one  we  stayed 
in)  was  built  for  the  beloved  mother  who  there  peace- 
fully ended  her  days,  to  be  followed  to  the  grave 
shortly  afterwards  by  her  eccentric  husband,  who 


THE  ARGENTINE  215 

through  all  had  tenderly  watched  over  her,  having 
twice  nursed  her  back  to  life  after  she  had  been  given 
up  by  the  doctors.  They  both  lie  buried  close  to  the 
estancia  house. 

Riding  over  the  country  in  remote  parts  of  the 
Argentine,  one  meets  all  sorts  of  curious  and  interest- 
ing types.  I  remember  once  that  in  the  wilds  about 
Neuquen  we  were  cheered  by  a  meeting  with  a  char- 
acter well  known  thereabouts,  a  very  rich  estanciero 
named  Alezandro  S.,  born  in  Chili,  but  naturalized  in 
the  Argentine.  A  characteristic  story  is  told  of  how 
at  the  time  of  the  Argentine-Chilian  war  scare  a 
few  years  ago  he  went  to  the  colonel  in  charge  of  a 
remount  division  of  one  of  the  belligerent  armies  and 
offered  him  800  horses  at  a  certain  price. 

"  Right !  "  said  the  colonel,  "  but  the  price  mentioned 
for  the  deal  in  my  papers  must  figure  at  five  dollars 
higher  than  the  price  you  mention,  the  remaining 
sum  being  my  commission." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  old  Alezandro.  "  If  you 
are  not  patriotic  enough  to  buy  my  horses  at  the 
price  I  name  for  your  Government,  making  an  honest 
deal  of  the  matter,  1  shall  cross  the  Cordillera  and 
dispose  of  them  to  your  country's  enemies." 

'  You  can't,"  said  the  colonel.  "  You  would  not 
find  a  market  for  them  there !  " 

But  the  old  man  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and 
the  matter,  reaching  the  ear  of  the  colonel's  chief, 
resulted  in  a  scandal  which  made  a  great  sensation 
at  the  time.  Such  a  man  was  Alezandro,  whom  we 
met  on  the  road  that  day,  booted  and  spurred  with  gold. 

He  was  mounted  on  a  beautiful  black  horse  with 
a  white  star  on  its  forehead,  and  followed  by  a  tro- 
pilla  (troop)  of  thirteen  other  horses  exactly  like  his 


216  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

own,  the  famous  picked  tropilla  of  oscttros  (blacks) 
known  throughout  the  country  as  belonging  to  this 
enormously  rich  and  eccentric  old  man,  who  twice  a 
year  crossed  the  Cordillera  between  Chili  and  Argentina 
to  visit  his  estancias  in  both  countries.  The  personal 
"  kit  "  of  this  travelling  millionaire  formed  the  light 
load  of  one  mule,  so  simple  is  life  in  the  Argentine 
"  camp  "  and  so  few  are  the  requirements  of  even 
the  richest. 

Riding  trips,  of  which  we  made  so  many  in  the 
Argentine,  give  one  a  great  idea  of  the  vastness  and 
scant  population  of  this  wonderful  country.  We  rode 
once  right  across  it  from  east  to  west,  from  Neuquen 
to  a  wonderfully  beautiful  lake  called  Nahuel  Huapi 
in  Chili.  We  covered  a  distance  of  850  miles  on 
horseback,  which  took  us  two  months,  during  which 
we  were  all  the  time  out  of  reach  of  a  post  office, 
except  twice,  when  we  came  upon  small  pueblos,  or 
collections  of  houses  not  amounting  to  a  town.  The 
only  people  we  met  in  our  long  ride  were  connected 
with  cattle,  for  the  mountains  are  uninhabited,  except 
by  shepherds  and  cowherds  in  charge  of  the  vast 
herds  of  cows  and  sheep,  which  pasture  in  the  valleys 
and  belong  to  the  various  estancieros,  many  of  them 
English,  who  have  elected  to  buy  ranches  in  these  fertile 
districts. 

The  only  human  habitations  we  struck  were  the 
bolice  (a  sort  of  "general  stores"),  which  seems  to 
flourish  in  the  remotest  spots.  The  wares  offered  for 
sale  in  them  were  few  in  number,  but  immensely  high 
in  price.  They  generally  included  wearing  apparel, 
such  as  bombachos  and  alpagatas  (a  sort  of  canvas 
shoes),  yerba  for  mate  (the  national  tea),  matches, 
bread,  and  occasionally  whisky.  Little  else  did  they 


THE  ARGENTINE  217 

provide,  but  they  formed  a  centre  and  a  common 
meeting-ground  for  the  few  inhabitants  of  these  sparsely 
populated  country  districts,  and  travellers,  few  as 
they  were,  never  failed  to  draw  rein  at  their  doors. 

In  the  course  of  one  of  our  journeys  in  the  Andes, 
we  came  across  two  young  Englishmen  who  were 
as  fine  types  of  English  manhood  as  one  would  want 
to  see.  They  were  both  twenty-three  years  old,  and 
had  elected  to  try  their  luck  at  estancia  life  together 
in  this  remote  part  of  the  world.  Their  beginning 
was  ill-omened.  A  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and 
fractured  his  leg  very  badly  above  the  ankle.  They 
were  alone  together  in  camp  and  knew  nothing  of 
surgery ;  they  had  not  even  the  necessary  materials 
out  of  which  to  make  a  bandage.  But  B  managed 
to  bind  up  his  friend's  injured  limb,  after  which  he 
decided  to  take  him  back  to  Buenos  Ayres. 

The  journey  was  performed  in  a  bullock-wagon 
and  took  twenty-three  days.  B  nursed  his  friend 
devotedly  during  that  trying  time,  besides  driving 
the  cart  and  doing  the  cooking.  They  reached  Buenos 
Ayres,  where  A  was  conveyed  to  the  British  Hospital, 
there  to  spend  five  months  on  his  back,  while  B  hurried 
home  to  resume  work  on  their  estancia.  As  soon  as 
he  was  able,  A  rejoined  him,  but  with  one  leg  consider- 
ably shorter  than  the  other,  so  that  he  could  only 
ride  with  difficulty,  and  there  we  met  them,  working 
away,  full  of  courage  and  of  hope,  building  magni- 
ficent castles  in  the  air,  having  already  pegged  out 
their  claim,  so  to  speak,  and  stocked  their  couple 
of  leagues  with  cattle. 

Of  such  stuff  are  Englishmen  made.  And  I  am 
proud  to  bear  witness  to  it,  who  have  seen  it  not  once, 
but  many  times,  not  only  in  the  Argentine,  but  all 


218  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

over  the  world,  and  in  places  quite  retired  from  the 
light  of  civilization. 

When  one  first  starts  wandering  on  horseback,  as 
we  did,  in  every  part  of  the  Argentine  (I  am  talking 
now  more  especially  of  the  south),  it  strikes  one  as 
incomprehensible  that  owners  and  breeders  do  not 
annually  lose  scores  of  cows  and  sheep,  for  the  animals 
roam  about,  apparently  ownerless  and  unrestrained, 
over  vast  tracks  of  mountain  country  measuring 
often  a  hundred  miles  or  more  in  extent.  Where 
a  man's  property  abuts  upon  "  fiscal "  land  (land 
belonging  to  the  Government  and  waiting  to  be  sold) 
the  owner  seizes  advantage  of  this  to  let  his  horses, 
cattle  and  sheep  run  over  that  land  also,  so  that, 
say  a  man's  property  covers  ten  leagues  and  adjoins 
a  Government  lot  of  the  same  dimensions,  his  animals 
may  be  found  roaming  over  all  that  space.  Yet  com- 
paratively few  are  lost,  for  owners  constantly  ride 
about  driving  them  in  towards  a  centre,  where  they 
can  be  counted. 

I  remember  meeting  a  Welshman  in  charge  of  3,000 
cattle,  who  told  me  that  he  had  never  lost  an  animal. 
How  he  managed  to  arrive  at  this  fact  or  to  count 
them  passed  my  understanding,  until  he  explained 
to  me  that  it  is  done  by  driving  the  animals  through 
a  narrow  place  past  five  or  six  men  who  check  them 
in  tens,  the  units  being  represented  by  pebbles  and 
the  tens  by  bigger  stones,  which  they  drop  into  their 
pockets  as  the  cattle  pass.  Notes  are  afterwards 
compared  to  arrive  at  the  correct  result.  They  can 
count  five  or  six  thousand  sheep  in  this  way  with 
practically  perfect  accuracy,  and  in  a  very  short  time. 
Cattle,  of  course,  are  much  easier. 

One  of  the  features  of  camp  life  which  bears  hardest 


THE  ARGENTINE  219 

on  its  votaries  is  the  enormous  distance  from  town, 
and  the  consequent  solitude,  broken  only  by  the 
society  of  those  who  form  its  members. 

Of  course,  in  glorified  estancias  like  Chapadmalal, 
the  women  solace  the  loneliness  of  spare  hours  by 
gardening,  French  novels  and  needlework.  But  under 
rougher  conditions  they  have  no  leisure  for  reading 
— everything  to  do  with  children,  cooking,  and  cleaning 
and  the  care  of  the  "  backyard  "  animals  naturally 
falls  upon  the  women  in  a  country  where  there  are 
no  servants  except  of  the  expensive  "  imported " 
brand,  and  no  man  help,  every  available  hand  being 
at  work  outside. 

Many  an  anxious  hour  must  the  mother  and  wife 
spend  under  such  conditions.  In  moments  of  emer- 
gency, such  as  accidents  to  man  or  beast  and  cases 
of  fire,  she  very  often  has  to  depend  entirely  on  herself 
to  save  the  situation. 

I  found  that  as  regards  health  and  "  first-aid " 
the  camp  women — I  am  now  speaking  of  the  native 
so-called  estancias — were  extraordinarily  ignorant. 
When  we  were  in  Buenos  Ayres  I  got  up  a  "  first- 
aid  "  class  to  try  and  teach  them  what  to  do  in  sudden 
emergencies.  But  there  appears  to  be  a  Providence 
that  rules  over  these  denizens  of  Argentina's  vast 
spaces,  and  I  do  not  suppose  my  classes  really  did 
much  to  help.  They  probably  preferred  their  old 
reckless  way,  even  if  it  did  entail  an  enormously 
high  percentage  of  infantile  deaths. 

In  the  Argentine  nowadays  one  sees  very  little  of 
the  Indians,  who  were  for  a  long  time  being  systematic- 
ally exterminated.  Up  in  Jujuy,  where  we  stayed 
with  some  friends  of  ours,  the  Leeches,  who  are  great 
sugar  growers  and  manufacturers,  the  Indians  come 


220  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

down  every  year  to  harvest  the  sugar  canes.  They 
have  to  be  fetched  from  their  village  fastnesses  by 
one  of  the  Leech  brothers,  who  goes  up  himself  to 
invite  them  to  come  down  to  the  estancia.  They 
know  and  like  him,  and  come  at  his  bidding,  doing 
their  work  well  under  his  fatherly  guidance  and  care. 
But  they  are  very  wild  and  fearful  of  strangers.  If 
any  one  of  them  dies  during  the  period  of  their  service, 
the  body  is  stuck  up  in  the  branches  of  a  tree  that 
the  vultures  may  prepare  the  skeleton  for  removal 
home  when  the  time  comes  for  their  trek  back  to 
their  virgin  forests.  They  are  paid  in  "  kind,"  pre- 
ferring a  yard  of  red  flannel  to  a  piece  of  money. 

The  English  have  always  been  very  popular  in  the 
Argentine,  where,  fortunately,  our  record  is  a  good 
one.  The  British  estancieros  are  a  credit  to  us. 
Scattered  more  or  less  all  over  the  country,  their 
dealings  with  the  natives  have  been  so  honourable 
that  Palabra  d'Ingles  (word  of  an  Englishman)  has  be- 
come a  current  expression  throughout  the  land.  What 
greater  compliment  could  be  paid  us  as  a  nation  ? 


CHAPTER  XI 

BUCHAREST 

When  Carmen  Sylva  was  Queen  of  Rumania — What  she  did  for  her 
people — The  beauty  and  charm  of  Princess  Marie,  now  Queen 
of  the  Rumanians — Social  life — Peculiar  views  of  marriage — 
The  Huns  in  Bucharest — Mr.  Lloyd  George  on  M.  Clemenceau, 
and  M.  Clemenceau  on  Mr.  Lloyd  George. 

AGAIN  the  scene  of  our  lives  shifted,  this  time 
from  America  to  Europe,  from  Buenos  Ayres 
to  Bucharest,  from  a  land  of  wide-ranged  ranches 
peopled  with  "  peons "  to  a  land  of  proud  peasants. 
My  husband  was  transferred  to  the  capital  of  Rumania 
as  Minister  Plenipotentiary  for  Great  Britain  in 
1911. 

At  the  Palace  in  Bucharest,  shortly  after  our  arrival, 
I  was  received  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  better  known 
as  Carmen  Sylva,  the  nom  de  plume  she  adopted  in 
later  years.  The  room  in  which  she  sat  was  charac- 
teristic of  herself.  It  was  a  study  whose  walls  were 
lined  with  untidy  books  in  shelves,  books  which 
had  the  appearance  of  being  constantly  handled. 
Her  writing-table  was  shaped  like  a  huge  horseshoe, 
and  on  it  were  no  fewer  than  three  typewriting  machines 
for  the  three  different  languages  in  which  she  com- 
posed. 

The  room  opened  out  of  her  bedroom  on  one  side. 
She  told  me  that  every  day  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
rising  between  three  and  four  in  the  morning  to 

221 


222  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

write.  She  slipped  on  a  dressing-gown,  and  at  that 
weird  and  cheerless  hour  composed  her  best  poems. 
The  silence  of  the  house  and  the  creeping  rose  of 
the  dawn  inspired  her.  When  I  knew  her  she  had 
just  finished  a  philosophical  work  in  verse,  composed 
in  these  early  hours. 

Out  of  her  study  on  the  other  side  opened  her 
music  room,  with  a  raised  platform,  on  which  were  a 
piano,  music  stands,  etc.,  ready  for  the  concerts  in 
which  she  delighted,  for  the  Queen  was  passionately 
fond  of  music.  All  the  artists  of  note  who  came 
to  Bucharest  were  summoned  to  play  here  before 
her.  Later,  when  the  advancing  stages  of  the  painful 
malady  of  which  she  ultimately  died  forced  her  to 
keep  to  her  room,  she  still  indulged  her  passion  for 
music,  listening  through  the  open  door  to  the  strains 
she  loved.  A  few  selected  guests  were  admitted 
to  share  this  pleasure.  On  these  occasions  we  used 
to  present  our  homage  to  the  Queen  lying  on  her 
sofa,  dressed  all  in  white,  with  a  sort  of  glorified 
nun's  head-dress  in  beautiful  old  lace  framing  her 
head  and  face.  After  kissing  her  hand,  we  retired 
to  the  auditorium,  and  she  remained  alone,  with 
closed  eyes,  listening. 

A  third  room  opening  from  her  study  was  occupied 
by  her  ladies-in-waiting. 

Carmen  Sylva  in  her  best  days  must  have  been  a 
wonderful  woman.  Even  when  we  were  in  Bucharest, 
towards  the  end  of  her  long  career,  she  was  most 
attractive. 

She  would  have  shone  in  any  sphere  of  life  that 
she  chanced  to  be  born  into.  She  was  so  many- 
sided,  so  versatile.  Intellectual,  romantic  and  pas- 
sionate as  she  was,  there  was  another  side  to  her 


BUCHAREST  223 

character  which  was  of  untold  benefit  to  her  country. 

She  loved  Rumania  and  the  Rumanians,  and  was 
never  tired  of  talking  of  them.  Especially  in  the 
women  she  took  the  greatest  interest.  She  spoke 
to  me  often  about  them,  knowing  her  subject  inti- 
mately. In  home  life  and  work  she  found  the  best 
guarantee  for  their  happiness  and  morality.  These 
peasant  women  are  not  fitted  for  domestic  service, 
she  would  say ;  they  consider  it  derogatory.  The 
proof  of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  there  are  no  Rumanian 
servants  in  Bucharest,  that  class  all  being  drawn 
from  Transylvania.  "  Oh,  I  have  had  a  deal  of 
trouble  with  the  women  of  this  country,"  she  said. 
"  They  are  so  proud  that  in  the  old  days  I  could 
not  even  get  them  to  enter  my  service  as  maids  of 
honour  !  The  peasants  used  to  reproach  those  parents 
who  permitted  such  a  thing.  Daughters,  they 
declared,  should  stay  at  home  till  they  marry  !  " 

So  the  Queen  set  herself  to  find  work  for  them 
in  their  own  homes.  She  started  a  large  society  for 
silk  weaving,  and  as  all  Rumania  grows  silkworms 
unto  the  most  northern  parts  of  Moldavia,  she  hoped 
one  day  to  see  a  weaving  loom  in  every  cottage  in 
the  country.  Two  weaving  schools  were  opened  in 
Bucharest,  where  peasant  girls  were  taught  this 
lucrative  trade,  and  to  each  girl  returning  to  her 
village,  after  her  course  of  training,  was  given  a 
loom. 

The  Queen  took  more  interest  in  this  home-weaving 
question  than  in  any  other,  but  here  again  she  had 
to  fight  the  curious  prejudices  of  the  women  she 
endeavoured  to  help.  They  were  too  proud  to  sell 
the  silk  they  made !  When  the  Queen,  anxious  to 
provide  a  market  for  them,  offered  to  buy  all  they 


224  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

could  produce,  they  were  utterly  disgusted,  looking 
upon  a  sale  of  their  handiwork  as  worthy  only  of 
the  Jews.  "  I  would  sooner  make  silken  robes  for 
myself,"  said  one,  "  than  sell  to  others  what  I  make 
for  my  own  pleasure !  "  It  was  some  time  before 
they  could  be  brought  to  view  the  matter  in  a  different 
light. 

The  Queen  also  had  to  reckon  with  the  prejudiced 
opposition  of  the  landowners,  who  objected  to  the 
new  industry  because  they  feared  it  might  gradually 
lead  the  country  women  to  abandon  field  work.  "  I 
did  not  tell  them,"  she  said,  "  that  one  of  my  chief 
reasons  for  starting  the  industry  was  that  it  should 
have  just  that  result !  I  wanted  to  reduce  the  number 
of  valuable  lives  lost  to  the  State  through  the  mothers 
being  kept  such  long  hours  in  the  fields." 

There  was  no  real  want  in  Rumania  before  the  war, 
so  many  societies  having  been  started  by  the  Queen 
for  the  relief  of  the  unemployed.  One  of  these  kept 
2,000  women  at  work,  the  product  of  their  industry 
being  sent  to  London  and  as  far  afield  as  America. 
Another  gave  homework  to  poor  ladies — Rumanian 
Society  women  are  wonderfully  charitable,  and  the 
Queen  told  me  of  the  great  interest  they  take  in 
their  poorer  sisters,  whom  they  visit  and  care  for. 
There  are  300  charitable  societies  in  Bucharest  alone 
administered  by  women,  and  many  of  them  do  not 
know  how  the  day  goes,  so  hard  do  they  work  and 
so  much  have  they  to  do  to  carry  on  their  self-appointed 
task. 

The  Queen  spoke  with  love  of  the  country  of  her 
adoption.  "  I  often  regret,"  she  said,  "  even  necessary 
innovations  like  that  of  the  silk-weaving,  because 
it  takes  away  something  of  the  beautiful  simplicity 


THE  QUEEN  OF  RUMANIA 


BUCHAREST  225 

of  peasant  life.  It  may  also  awaken  a  taste  for 
luxury  which  previously  did  not  exist  in  a  civilization 
so  primitive  in  form.  I  had  a  lot  to  learn  before 
I  stopped  doing  harm  in  endeavouring  to  do  good," 
sighed  Carmen  Sylva,  one  of  the  most  painstaking 
and  devoted  Sovereigns  with  whom  a  country  ever 
was  blessed,  even  after  reckoning  with  the  mistakes 
into  which  her  very  genius  and  originality  may  have 
led  her. 

During  the  several  audiences  Her  Majesty  gave 
me,  she  would  sometimes  lapse  into  a  more  intimate 
causerie,  in  which  she  revealed  yet  another  attractive 
side  to  her  versatile  character — namely,  her  happiness 
in  her  home-life.  She  was  a  devoted  wife  to  the 
late  King,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  romantic  dis- 
position occasionally  led  her  into  indiscretions  in  her 
younger  days. 

Speaking  English  fluently,  she  would  tell  me  in 
her  pleasantly  modulated  voice  of  the  King  and  his 
great  work  for  Rumania.  And  then  she  would  give 
me  charming  glimpses  into  her  own  life  with  him. 
She  told  me  how  precious  he  was  to  her,  and  how 
when  he  was  ill  she  would  massage  his  tired  limbs 
till  her  own  hands  ached.  Every  night  they  played 
Patience  together  when  the  affairs  of  State  had  been 
disposed  of.  "I  order  his  dinner  myself  every  day," 
she  confided  to  me,  laughing,  "  and  I  impose  upon 
the  chef  a  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  his  office. 
I  tell  him  he  is,  after  the  King,  the  most  important 
factor  in  the  land,  for  the  welfare  of  the  State  ulti- 
mately depends  on  him,  he  being  responsible  for  the 
King's  digestion  !  " 

The  present  Queen,  who  was  Crown  Princess  in 
the  days  when  we  were  in  Bucharest,  was  a  great 


226  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

contrast  to  Carmen  Sylva.  She  lived  at  Cotroceni, 
an  old  monastery,  just  outside  the  town,  which  had 
been  converted  into  a  palace  for  the  young  heir  to 
the  throne  and  his  wife.  I  remember  how  dazzled  I 
was  by  her  beauty  when  for  the  first  time  I  saw  her, 
radiant  with  youth,  her  beautiful  head  crowned  by 
a  glory  of  golden  hair,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
reception  hall  where  she  received  me. 

This  hall  deserves  some  description,  as,  being  her 
own  work,  it  necessarily  was  the  intimate  expression 
of  her  fascinating  personality.  The  general  effect 
of  it  was  Byzantine.  The  floor  was  tiled  with  tur- 
quoise blue,  the  walls  heavily  decorated  with  gilt 
stucco  motifs,  designed  by  herself,  applied  upon  a 
shiny  background  of  the  same  blue  as  the  tiles. 

The  room,  or  rather  hall,  was  broken  up  by  monu- 
mental seats,  cabinets  and  screens  of  carved  and 
gilded  wood.  Immense  tables,  circular  and  topped  with 
marble,  were  covered  with  Danish  porcelain  animals,  of 
which  Princess  Marie  was  passionately  fond.  On  the 
floor  were  spread  priceless  Oriental  rugs,  while  the 
electric  lights  were  concealed  in  big  wrought-iron 
lanterns  hanging  from  the  lofty  and  vaulted  ceiling. 

The  sofa  on  which  the  Crown  Princess  sat  while 
she  poured  out  tea  was  huge  and  square  and  gilt, 
heaped  up  with  cushions  of  handworked  Rumanian 
embroidery  of  every  shade  of  red  and  purple. 

The  Queen  had  received  me  in  her  study ;  the 
Crown  Princess  received  me  in  a  Byzantine  hall 
in  which  one  instinctively  looked  round  for  a  splashing 
fountain.  The  contrast  in  the  homes  of  these  two 
women  was  as  curious  and  interesting  as  was  the 
contrast  in  their  interests.  The  Queen  spoke  all 
the  time  of  poetry  and  other  intellectual  subjects,  of 


BUCHAREST  227 

the  evolution  and  progress  of  Rumania,  of  the  social 
and  moral  condition  of  her  people  ;  while  the  Princess's 
talk  was  of  her  friends,  of  sport,  of  the  trouble  she 
had  had  to  "  modernize  "  the  Court  a  little. 

The  two  women  represented  opposite  poles  of 
feminine  interest,  yet  I  suppose  no  two  sovereigns 
ever  were  more  beautiful  and  more  fascinating,  each 
in  her  own  way.  And  the  greatest  affection  existed 
between  them.  Queen  Carmen  Sylva  spoke  with 
evident  pride  of  the  Princess,  though  smilingly  shaking 
her  head  over  her  partiality  for  riding  out  alone, 
and  for  roller-skating  in  the  great  covered  hall  where 
all  Society  on  wintry  afternoons  collected  to  indulge 
in  this  favourite  sport. 

The  Crown  Princess  honoured  us  several  times  by 
coming  to  the  Legation.  On  the  first  occasion,  when 
she  and  the  Crown  Prince  dined  with  us,  she  came 
resplendent  in  jewels  and  wearing  a  most  lovely 
gown.  "See,"  she  said,  as  I  advanced  to  receive 
her  in  the  hall,  "  I  have  made  myself  as  beautiful 
as  I  could  to  come  to  England  to-night.  I  consider 
this  Legation  a  bit  of  my  own  dear  country." 

Queen  Marie  has  remained  essentially  British,1 
although  since  the  accession  of  her  husband  she 
has  identified  herself  completely  with  Rumania, 
especially  during  the  war.  But  one  cannot  help 
feeling  that  she  must  have  had  something  of  an 
apprenticeship  to  go  through,  being  taken  as  a  beautiful 
young  girl  of  seventeen  straight  from  the  breadth 
and  education  of  an  English  home  to  the  trammels 
of  a  foreign,  and  what  was,  at  that  time,  of  course, 
a  German,  Court. 

1  She  was  Princess  Marie  of  Saxe-Coburg  and  Gotha,  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh. 


228  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

I  said  something  of  this  to  her  one  day,  and  she 
admitted  that  her  early  experiences  had  been  hard, 
but  "  I  am  accustomed  to  it  all  now,"  she  added, 
"  and  I  love  my  adopted  country.  I  have  the  satis- 
faction of  being  honestly  able  to  say  that  if  I  had 
to  choose  I  would  do  it  all  over  again !  " 

The  Crown  Princess  was  most  informal  when 
entertaining  small  parties  of  her  friends  at  Cotroceni. 
She  was  very  gay  in  those  happy  pre-war  days,  loving 
her  country  life  with  her  beautiful  children  round 
her,  but  at  the  same  time  never  failing  to  carry  out 
such  tiresome  public  duties  as  always  fall  to  the 
lot  of  the  wife  of  the  heir  to  the  throne.  Thus  I 
remember  attending  a  big  charity  concert  over  which 
she  presided  in  a  church  (Greek).  All  the  women 
of  the  corps  diplomatique  were  invited  to  receive 
her,  but  for  some  reason  no  one  turned  up  except 
myself. 

The  sanctuary,  within  the  rails,  was  set  apart 
for  the  Crown  Princess,  who  occupied  one  of  three 
big  arm-chairs  facing  the  congregation,  with  the 
Archbishop  on  her  right,  and  myself  on  her  left.  The 
Crown  Princess  is  extraordinarily  beloved  of  the 
Rumanians,  and  as  she  subsequently  moved  around 
visiting  the  various  stalls  of  the  bazaar  her  progress 
was  constantly  impeded  by  those  who  pressed  forward 
anxious  to  kiss  her  hand. 

Rumanian  social  life  is,  in  charm  and  intelligence, 
distinctly  above  the  average,  or  at  least  it  appealed 
to  me  as  such,  possibly  on  account  of  its  very  French 
character.  French  it  is  in  all  respects  but  one,  and 
that  is  in  the  extraordinarily  lax  view  the  Rumanians 
take  of  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie.  I  might 
almost  say  that  the  possibility  of  divorce  as  a  release 


BUCHAREST  229 

to  her  daughter  from  an  unsuccessful  marriage  enters 
into  the  prenuptial  calculations  of  the  average  Ruman- 
ian mother. 

To  my  mind  there  is  something  abnormal,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  in  this  view  of  married  life.  But  this 
does  not  appeal  to  the  Rumanians  in  the  same  way. 
A  great  friend  of  mine,  and  a  charming  woman, 
referred  with  pride  to  a  case  in  which  a  man  whose 
wife  left  him  to  marry  his  friend  (the  second  marriage 
is  often  arranged  before  the  first  is  broken  off)  not 
only  restored  to  her  her  "  dot  "  intact,  but  actually 
doubled  it,  to  prove  that  he  had  been  a  faithful  steward 
of  her  goods  while  in  charge !  "  C'etait  un  beau 
geste ! '''  said  my  friend.  "  He  proved  himself  a 
perfect  gentleman  in  a  most  difficult  situation  !  ' 

The  women  are  very  intelligent,  and,  I  think,  would 
be  better  wives  if  the  husbands  were  more  faithful. 
As  it  is  there  are  few  happy  marriages. 

The  social  world,  however,  is  very  amusing,  as 
Rumanians  excel  in  the  art  of  small  talk.  French 
is  the  universal  language  spoken,  which  makes  it 
easy  for  a  foreigner  to  become  intimate  with  them. 

Bucharest  has  great  attractions  besides  its  wonderful 
tea  and  bon-bon  shops.  One  is  the  Lautari,  or  gipsy 
music,  than  which  nothing  in  the  world  is  more  divine 
to  dance  to.  These  men  are  supposed  to  be  the 
real  gipsies,  and  they  have  such  a  wonderful  ear 
for  music  that  I  have  known  them  pick  up  a  tune 
in  a  ball-room  from  a  few  notes  whistled  by  some 
one  present  and  play  it  off  as  a  concerted  waltz  with- 
out any  previous  study  at  all.  The  Rumanians 
are  so  fond  of  music  that  I  have  more  than  once 
seen  a  young  man  dining  alone  at  a  restaurant  signal 
to  the  first  violin  to  come  across  to  him,  and  for 


230  '  INDISCRETIONS  * 

the  equivalent  of  a  five  pound  note  induce  him  to 
play  actually  into  his  ear  I 

The  climate  of  Bucharest,  especially  in  winter,  was 
dreary  in  the  extreme.  During  the  winter  we  spent 
there  we  seldom  saw  a  ray  of  sun,  while  underfoot 
we  experienced  for  long  weeks  alternations  of  snow 
and  thaw.  But  summer  at  Sinaia  is  glorious,  when  the 
long  days  can  be  enjoyed  in  the  exquisite  surroundings 
of  that  lovely  spot. 

In  my  diary  I  find  the  following  entry  made  during 
the  war,  on  October  12, 1918  : 

"  I  have  just  received  a  long  and  most  interesting 
letter  from  an  old  friend  of  ours  in  Rumania,  the 
statesman  who  made  his  country  enter  the  war  on 
our  side  and  who  is  now  an  exile  in  London,  having 
been  impeached  by  the  pro-German  party  who  ousted 
him.  He  tells  me  many  interesting  details  that 
do  not  appear  in  history,  as,  for  instance,  how  the 
Huns  treated  his  house  in  Bucharest,  after  he  had 
fled  from  it,  upon  their  victorious  entry  into  the 
town.  It  appears  that  thirty  men,  under  a  non- 
commissioned officer,  were  especially  told  off  to 
do  the  work  of  destruction.  They  pulled  the  old 
panelling  off  the  walls  of  the  rooms  and  sent  it  to 
Berlin.  They  then  took  hammers  and  knocked  the 
decorative  plaster  off  ceiling  cornices  and  dado  of 
every  room  till  the  brickwork-shell  alone  remained. 
Then  they  carted  off  to  Berlin  everything  valuable 
they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  deliberately  defacing 
and  fouling  what  they  could  not  remove.  On  the 
tenth  day,  General  Mackensen  himself  came  to  see 
how  his  orders  had  been  carried  out ! 

"  He  told  us  how  in  Rumanian  official  circles  it 
had  been  known  at  least  three  years  before  war  broke 


BUCHAREST  231 

out  that  Germany  intended  it.  Austria  knew  it 
too,  and  was  in  a  great  measure  responsible  for  it. 
Count  Pallavicini,  Austrian  Ambassador  at  Con- 
stantinople, came  to  Bucharest  in  April,  1913,  to 
ask  what  Rumania  would  do  in  such  a  case.  '  We 
must  have  a  preventive  war  against  Serbia/  he  said. 
He  repeated  this  remark  many  times  in  the  course 
of  that  one  conversation,  using  always  the  same 
expression  '  preventive.'  '  We  must  know/  he  said, 
'  whether  in  such  a  case  Rumania  would  be  with 
us,  because  if  not,  we  should  accept  the  offer  Bulgaria 
has  already  made  to  join  us/  On  I4th  July,  1914, 
King  Charles  of  Rumania  told  our  friend  that  the 
ex- Kaiser  had  warned  him  that  war  was  to  take 
place,  but  probably  not  before  three  years.  No 
doubt  the  Serajevo  incident  hurried  the  denouement. 
A  very  prominent  politician,  an  old  Minister  then 
out  of  office,  was  particularly  anti-Entente,  and 
was  so  furious  when  it  was  decided  to  enter  the  war 
on  our  side  that  he  banged  his  fist  on  the  Council- 
table,  round  which  sat  eighteen  Ministers,  presided 
over  by  the  King  in  person,  crying,  '  Then  may  the 
Rumanian  Army  be  not  only  beaten  but  utterly 
destroyed  !  ' 

"  He  was  very  amusing  in  his  appreciations  of 
present-day  leading  statesmen,  all  of  whom  he  knows 
personally.  Arthur  Balfour  he  qualified  as  '  too  much 
of  a  gentleman.'  He  apparently  got  both  Clemenceau 
and  Lloyd  George  to  express  their  opinion  one  of 
the  other.  Clemenceau  said  of  Lloyd  George :  '  He 
is  good  at  making  promises  which  he  never  keeps.' 
Lloyd  George  said  of  Clemenceau :  '  I  like  him  very 
well  for  two  or  three  days  !  ' 

"He    gave    a    shocking    account    of    Rumania's 


232  *  INDISCRETIONS ' 

sufferings.  When  the  so-called  Peace  had  been  signed, 
a  friend  of  his,  who  was  present  as  technical  adviser, 
said  to  one  of  the  Germans,  a  certain  Dr.  Kriege, 
acting  in  the  same  capacity :  '  Now  that  all  is  over, 
don't  you  think  your  terms  are  rather  harsh  ?  ' 
'  Harsh  !  '  exclaimed  the  other.  '  Why,  your  country 
has  received  from  us  most- favoured-nation  treatment ! 
You  should  see  the  terms  we  have  prepared  for  England 
and  France  when  they  are  beaten ;  those  are  harsh 
if  you  like  I  '  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

PERSIA 

To  Persia — Strange  tales  of  Shah  Nasr-ed-Din — The  boy  who 
did  not  want  to  be  king — His  coronation — Pictures  of  Teheran — 
An  exciting  and  perilous  journey  to  London  and  back. 

PERSIA  was  the  scene  of  our  next  diplomatic 
experiences,  when  in  1912,  my  husband  was 
appointed  to  the  Court  of  Shah  Sultan  Ahmed  in 
succession  to  the  late  Sir  George  Barclay. 

I  was  delighted  with  the  appointment,  for  stories 
of  Persia  and  of  the  legendary  Shah  Nasr-ed-Din, 
whose  visits  to  England  in  1873  and  1889  caused  a 
sensation  that  has  never  yet  been  effaced,  had  amused 
me  in  my  childhood.  Many  were  the  tales  told  of 
him,  some  of  them  true,  some  of  them  doubtless 
greatly  exaggerated.  Apparently,  he  never  could 
accustom  himself  to  the  ways  of  our  Western  world, 
but  considered  that  everything,  fair  ladies  included, 
should  be  within  the  capacity  of  his  limitless  fortune 
to  buy.  Thus  when  his  eyes  fell  with  favour  on  the 
stately  and  beautiful  Lady  C.,  he  was  deeply  affronted 
at  the  refusal  of  his  request  that  she  might  be  bought 
for  his  harem. 

It  is  stated  that  once  at  the  Alhambra  he  was  so 
delighted  with  the  corps  de  ballet  that  he  whispered 
to  his  Grand  Vizier  to  go  at  once  behind  the  scenes 

233 


234  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

and  "  buy  the  girls  in  the  front  row."  Failing  to 
effect  this  purchase,  he  insisted,  on  his  return  home, 
that  all  the  ladies  of  his  harem,  numbering  over  300, 
should  be  dressed  in  the  short  skirts  of  the  ballet 
dancer,  and  this  custom  still  prevailed  when  my 
husband  was  in  Persia  for  the  first  time  in  the  year 
1892. 

Nasr-ed-Din's  somewhat  fierce  bearing  and  the 
splendour  of  his  magnificent  jewels  appealed  to  the 
popular  fancy  in  England  as  being  typical  of  the 
Oriental  potentate  known  to  them  through  the  pages 
of  Hajji  Baba  and  The  Arabian  Nights.  He  became 
a  popular  hero  and  the  subject  of  a  tuneful  rhyme 
which  at  that  time  was  on  the  lips  of  every  office  boy, 
the  refrain  of  which  was,  "  Have  you  seen  the  Shah 
smoking  a  cigar  ?  ' 

His  entire  absence  of  constraint  vis-a-vis  the  outside 
world  was  illustrated  at  an  audience  of  the  corps 
diplomatique  in  Teheran,  at  which  my  husband  was 
present  in  the  early  'nineties.  An  English  lady  of 
a  certain  age  was  presented  to  Nasr-ed-Din,  and 
it  was  mentioned  to  him  that  she  was  going  to  be 
married.  Looking  attentively  at  the  lady,  he  re- 
marked in  his  crude  French,  "  C'est  tard  /  >J  On 
another  important  occasion  a  very  stout  lady 
was  presented  to  him.  All  he  had  to  say,  again  in 
French,  was  "  Beaucoup  !  " 

Mussulmans  of  the  Shiah  denomination,  to  which 
this  Shah  belonged,  marry  four  legal  wives.  But 
their  supernumerary  wives  are  married  for  a  term  of 
years  only.  One  of  Nasr-ed-Din's  wives  he  married 
"  for  ninety-nine-years  !  " 

This  poor  man  was  afterwards  assassinated  in  his 
own  country  as  he  left  the  shrine  of  Shah  Abdul 


PERSIA  235 

Azim  some  six  miles  from  Teheran,  after  performing 
his  devotions  there.  He  was  accompanied  at  the 
time  by  his  faithful  Grand  Vizier,  the  Atabeg-Azam 
(himself  later  murdered),  whose  presence  of  mind 
probably  saved  the  situation  from  developing  danger- 
ously. For,  seeing  that  his  master  was  dead  by  his 
side,  but  hoping  to  avoid  a  demonstration  hostile 
to  the  throne,  he  concealed  the  fact  from  the  crowd 
by  supporting  him  upright  in  the  carriage  till  the 
gates  of  the  palace  court-yard  had  been  closed  behind 
it. 

Nasr-ed-Din  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Muzaffer-ed- 
Din,  who  also  came  to  England.  What  chiefly 
attracted  him  at  the  music-halls  was  not  so  much 
the  "  stars,"  as  the,  to  him,  delightful  din  of  the 
orchestra's  instruments  being  tuned.  On  one  occa- 
sion he  begged  that  the  opening  chorus  might  be 
delayed  while  the  operation  was  repeated.  He 
delighted  in  the  discord. 

Muzaffer-ed-Din  travelled  in  great  splendour  when 
he  came  to  Europe  and  distributed  gifts  wholesale. 
His  generosity  was  so  great  and  became  so  well  known 
that  wherever  he  went  the  beggars  used  to  line  up 
with  hand  extended,  waiting  for  largess.  His  health 
was  very  bad,  and  he  died  of  diabetes  soon  after 
returning  to  Persia. 

His  son,  Mohammed  Ali  Mirza,  by  whom  he  was 
succeeded,  is  still  alive,  but  deposed  and  exiled  from 
his  country  because  of  his  weak  and  extravagant 
administration. 

I  first  saw  the  ex-Shah  in  1906  at  a  French  water- 
ing-place. He  was  accompanied  wherever  he  went 
by  a  beautiful  little  boy,  the  present  Shah  Sultan 
Ahmed. 


236  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

I  remember  the  child  quite  well.  He  was  then 
about  ten  years  old,  a  dear  little  fellow,  very  shy, 
with  a  face  of  baby  roundness,  a  delicate  button  of 
a  nose,  and  fine  dark  eyes.  He  seemed  to  be  the 
object  of  his  father's  unceasing  care,  as  though  he 
were  the  one  human  being  that  unhappy  monarch 
loved. 

When  we  came  to  Persia,  one  of  my  husband's 
Russian  colleagues  was  Monsieur  Sabline,  upon  whom 
had  fallen  the  task,  entrusted  to  him  by  the  Nation- 
alists, of  announcing  to  the  little  Prince  the  deposi- 
tion of  his  father  and  his  own  elevation  to  the  throne. 
He  has  often  told  me  of  the  child's  pathetic  answer, 
that  he  did  not  think  his  mother  would  allow  it ! 
He  consented,  however,  to  take  Monsieur  Sabline  to 
her,  and  an  affecting  scene  ensued.  Both  the  mother 
and  the  deposed  Shah  broke  down  at  the  thought 
of  parting  with  their  favourite  child,  and  offered  his 
brother  in  his  place.  Monsieur  Sabline  replied  that 
the  selection  had  been  made  by  the  people,  and  that 
he  had  no  voice  in  the  matter. 

The  boy  wept  bitterly  in  sympathy  with  his  parents 
and  declined  to  leave  his  mother.  "  Go  away,"  he 
said,  "  I  do  not  want  to  be  a  king."  But  finally 
Their  Majesties  were  persuaded  to  agree.  On 
Mohammed  Ali  Mirza's  assent  to  his  abdication  and 
banishment  being  obtained,  th.e  necessary  proclama- 
tion was  immediately  promulgated,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  the  Regent  and  a  Nationalist  deputation  should 
receive  the  little  Shah. 

An  interested  crowd  witnessed  his  departure  from 
the  custody  of  his  natural  guardians.  During  the 
whole  morning  the  poor  little  fellow  continued  to 
weep  bitterly  at  the  prospect  before  him,  and  it 


PERSIA  237 

required  a  stern  reprimand  to  make  him  dry  his  eyes. 
At  last  he  pulled  himself  together  bravely,  stepped 
into  the  royal  carriage,  and,  escorted  by  a  mounted 
guard,  drove  off  to  Sultanatabad,  where  he  was  met 
by  a  deputation  and  solemnly  notified  of  his  accession 
to  the  throne  of  Persia. 

He  was  told  of  the  hope  entertained  by  the  nation 
that  he  would  prove  himself  a  good  ruler.  "  Inshallah, 
I  will !  "  he  replied.  Arrangements  were  then  made 
for  his  new  household,  and  meanwhile  he  remained 
with  his  tutors  at  Sultanatabad,  where  his  mother 
was  given  free  access  to  him. 

I  had  my  first  audience  of  the  young  Shah  soon  after 
I  arrived  in  Teheran.  He  has  so  lately  paid  a  State 
visit  to  England  that  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  give 
a  personal  description  of  him  beyond  the  inevitable 
reference  to  his  great  corpulence.  Unfortunately, 
this  is  a  mark  of  ill-health  which  the  European  doctors 
in  attendance  have  endeavoured  in  vain  to  counter- 
act by  prescribed  exercise  in  the  way  of  lawn  tennis 
and  riding.  At  the  former  game  he  does  not  excel, 
but  on  horseback  he  seems  to  the  manner  born.  He 
and  his  horse  have  that  something  in  common  which 
distinguishes  the  Arab  and  every  other  denizen  of 
a  desert  country  whose  only  means  of  locomotion 
has  ever  been  the  good  steed  under  him. 

The  Shah  was  only  fifteen  when  I  was  presented 
to  him,  but  looked  more,  possibly  on  account  of  his 
elderly  style  of  dress.  He  wore  a  black  European 
frock  coat,  and  wide  pale-grey  trousers,  waistcoat 
of  loud-patterned  white  silk,  and  tie  of  heavy  black 
satin.  His  attire  was  peculiarly  ill-fitted  to  his  childish 
face  and  enormous  bulk.  The  only  jewels  he  wore 
were  a  very  fine  diamond  on  the  little  finger  of  his 


238  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

right  hand,  and  a  beautiful  emerald  hanging  from 
his  watch-chain.  His  manners  at  that  time  were 
marked  by  the  shy  gaucherie  peculiar  to  his  age, 
but  when  he  came  to  London  I  was  struck  by  the 
advance  he  had  made  in  this  respect.  He  then  had 
the  self-assurance  of  a  ruling  monarch  among  his 
peers. 

When  I  was  ushered  into  his  presence  by  the  son 
of  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  I  found  myself 
in  an  immense  hall,  all  one  side  of  which,  right  up  to 
the  ceiling,  was  a  window,  looking  out  on  a  most 
lovely  pastel-coloured  prospect  of  hill  and  dale  with 
Teheran  lying  like  a  jewel  enshrined  in  a  distant 
mist.  (Distance  lends  enchantment !)  The  palace  in 
which  we  were  was  the  summer  palace,  known  as 
the  Sultanatabad,  a  fairy  structure  built  on  the  edge 
of  a  lake  on  a  mountain  spur  about  5,000  feet  above 
sea  level.  The  walls  of  this  Hall  of  Audience  were 
lined  with  mirrors  cut  into  facets  and  fixed  in  place 
with  large  gold-headed  nails. 

But  there  ended  the  Oriental  touch  in  the  Shah's 
surroundings.  The  hall  had  a  European  parquet 
floor,  on  which  stood  ormolu  marble-inlaid  tables  ; 
great  glass  chandeliers  hung  from  the  ceiling,  and 
in  the  big  window  recess  a  number  of  modern  French 
Louis  XVI  arm-chairs  were  placed  in  a  half-circle 
on  a  beautiful  Persian  carpet. 

The  Shah's  arm-chair  differed  in  no  respect  from  the 
others,  but  in  front  of  it  was  a  little  bric-a-brac  table 
on  which  lay  two  English  illustrated  papers. 

When  I  came  in  the  young  Shah  was  standing 
behind  this  little  table,  with  the  Minister  of  the  Court 
on  his  right  and  the  Master  of  Ceremonies  on  his 
left.  He  shook  hands  with  me  very  awkwardly, 


PERSIA  239 

being  obviously  nervous  of  strangers,  and  made  me 
a  sign  to  take  the  arm-chair  beside  him.  Moin  el 
Vizerek,  my  interpreter,  stood  between  and  a  little 
behind  us. 

The  Shah's  voice  was  very  staccato.  He  opened 
the  conversation  as  usual  by  inquiring  after  my 
health,  and  having  reassured  him  on  this  point,  I 
inquired  after  his.  He  said  he  was  well,  and  requested 
to  know  how  His  Excellency  (Sir  Walter)  was.  I 
said,  "  Well,"  and  hoped  His  Majesty's  brother  was 
also  enjoying  good  health.  Having  set  my  mind 
at  rest  on  this  point,  he  gasped  a  little  and  began 
to  flounder  in  the  conversational  mire.  Suddenly 
he  recovered  and  inquired  after  the  health  of  all 
my  relatives  in  England. 

I  saw  that  the  situation  was  getting  desperate. 
I  realized  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  "  checkmating  " 
the  youthful  Sovereign  of  Persia,  for  if  I  answered 
this  with  the  obvious  and  only  remark,  "  Very 
well,  I  thank  Your  Majesty !  "  he  would  be  quite 
unable  to  think  of  a  fresh  topic.  He  threw  an 
appealing  glance  at  Moin  el  Vizerek,  who  hummed 
and  hawed  and  coughed  a  little,  and  then  said  that 
His  Majesty  wished  to  thank  me  for  the  evident 
interest  which  Sir  Walter  took  in  the  welfare  of 
Persia. 

The  moment  was  one  of  great  danger,  for  if  in  return 
for  this  complimentary  phrase  I  merely  bowed  my 
acknowledgment,  it  would  be  a  case  of  stalemate 
rather  than  checkmate,  for  neither  the  Shah  nor 
Moin  nor  I  could  think  of  a  single  other  thing  to 
say! 

All  of  a  sudden  I  had  a  luminous  inspiration.  My 
eyes  fell  on  the  illustrated  paper  lying  open  on  the 

Q 


240  •  INDISCRETIONS ' 

table  in  front  of  the  Shah.  Casting  all  ceremony 
aside,  for  desperate  straits  demand  desperate  measures, 
I  edged  my  chair  a  little  closer  to  the  Shah's  and, 
turning  over  the  leaves,  remarked  that  I  was  pleased 
to  see  that  His  Majesty  took  an  interest  in  our  English 
Press.  As  good  luck  would  have  it,  this  particular 
number  contained  a  portrait  of  the  young  Prince  of 
Wales.  The  situation  was  saved !  Here  was  a  mine 
of  conversational  wealth ! 

I  began  to  tell  him  as  fast  as  Moin  could  translate 
all  about  the  Prince  and  his  brothers,  and  their 
youthful  pursuits  in  England.  From  that  we  passed 
on  to  other  personalities,  and  by  degrees  our  talk 
drifted  to  such  varied  topics  as  the  height  of  English 
people,  and  the  Suffragette  question,  which  was  then 
monopolizing  public  attention  at  home. 

The  Shah  asked  me  if  it  was  possible  that  women 
could  be  so  badly  behaved  as  to  chain  themselves 
to  the  railings  outside  the  Prime  Minister's  house. 
Becoming  absorbed  in  this  topic,  on  which  he  seemed 
very  well  posted,  he  got  quite  animated,  jerking  out 
his  questions  with  that  quick,  curiously  characteristic 
upward  movement  of  the  head  towards  the  inter- 
preter standing  over  him.  The  minutes  flew  by,  and 
when  finally  His  Majesty  rose  to  signify  the  audience 
was  at  an  end,  he  told  Moin  to  say  that  he  hoped  I 
would  come  and  see  him  again,  as  it  was  the  only 
foreign  audience  he  had  ever  enjoyed ! 

Poor  boy !  It  seemed  almost  cruel  to  hedge  him 
round  with  the  rigid  etiquette  of  an  Oriental  Court. 
All  young  things  want  space  and  freedom  to  expand 
mentally  and  physically,  be  they  prince  or  peasant. 
The  Shah  ought  to  have  been  riding  and  hunting 
instead  of  being  cooped  up  in  a  palace  and  forced  to 


PERSIA  241 

give  audiences.  But  kingship  has  its  compensations, 
no  doubt,  even  for  a  boy ! 

The  Shah  was  crowned  in  the  summer  of  1914. 
The  ceremonial  functions  began  at  10  a.m.  on  Tuesday, 
July  21,  in  the  Mejliss  (Parliament)  House,  when  the 
boy  Sovereign  swore  on  the  Koran  to  be  faithful  to 
the  Constitution.  As  the  elections  for  a  new  Mejliss 
were  not  completed,  the  members  of  a  former  Parlia- 
ment, who  had  been  dismissed  by  a  coup  d'etat  rather 
suddenly  more  than  two  and  a  half  years  before, 
were  summoned  in  order  to  comply  with  the  exigencies 
of  the  Constitution. 

The  ceremony  was  a  record  for  dispatch  and  celerity. 
I  was  not  present,  as  only  men  were  admitted,  but 
I  heard  all  the  details  of  what  passed  from  Walter. 
The  foreign  Representatives  who  took  part  in  it 
assembled  at  9.30  and  took  their  places  in  the  Parlia- 
ment Hall  in  a  box  facing  the  throne.  At  10.15 
the  young  Shah  entered,  looked  round  rather 
shyly,  came  forward,  bowed  awkwardly  without 
looking  at  anyone  in  particular,  and  then  proceeded 
to  read  the  oath  in  a  low  voice  that  was  barely 
audible. 

By  10.18  the  ceremony  was  over,  and  the  company 
who  had  assembled  to  witness  it  dispersed.  The 
Shah  headed  a  great  procession  back  to  the  palace 
from  the  Mejliss,  which  was  interesting  in  spite  of 
being  somewhat  tawdry,  judged  by  our  standard. 

At  3.30  on  the  same  day,  the  coronation  took  place 
in  the  great  hall  which  contains  the  famous  Peacock 
Throne,  a  square  stage  richly  jewelled  and  enamelled. 
All  the  foreign  Representatives,  in  full  uniform,  lined 
up  on  the  right  of  it.  The  other  onlookers  were 
assembled  in  two  rows  three  or  four  deep  down  both 


242  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

sides  of  the  long  room,  leaving  a  wide  passage  between 
them  for  the  approach  of  the  Sovereign. 

He  came  in,  preceded  by  the  Cabinet  Ministers, 
who  took  up  their  places  opposite  to  the  foreign  re- 
presentatives and  to  the  left  of  the  throne.  The 
Shah  was  attended  by  the  Regent  and  by  his  brother, 
the  Valiahd,  or  Heir  Apparent.  He  mounted  the 
steps  of  the  throne  and  sat  down  on  a  gilded  chair 
placed  upon  it.  The  Regent  took  up  his  place  on 
the  right  hand  of  him  and  the  Valiahd  stood  by  his 
brother. 

A  slight  pause  here  gave  one  time  to  notice  how 
the  Shah  was  dressed  for  this  ancient  ceremony.  He 
wore  the  frock-coat,  the  Persian  "  full-dress,"  with 
wide  black  trousers.  Across  his  shoulders  was  the 
green  ribbon  of  the  Order  of  the  Lion  and  the  Sun. 
Round  his  waist  was  a  belt  from  which  hung  a  richly 
jewelled  sword  with  scabbard  set  with  diamonds. 
His  black  kola  had  affixed  to  the  front  of  it  the  magni- 
ficent diamond  aigrette,  the  most  prized  jewel  of  the 
Persian  regalia,  which  attracted  so  much  attention 
in  England  when  worn  by  Nasr-ed-Din. 

The  crown  was  in  position  on  a  cushion  in  front  of 
the  Shah.  Round  it,  sitting  on  their  heels,  squatted 
thirty  or  forty  mullahs  (priests). 

As  soon  as  the  Shah  was  seated  they  intoned  a 
sort  of  prayer,  a  melancholy  drone,  to  which  those 
who  understood  it  made  response  from  time  to  time 
with  cries  of  "  Allah  !  Allah  !  " 

While  this  prayer  was  being  chanted,  the  Shah 
rose  and,  taking  the  crown,  placed  it  himself  on  his 
head,  where  he  balanced  it  with  some  difficulty,  as 
it  was  very  large  and  clearly  very  heavy.  The  whole 
ceremony  did  not  last  more  than  ten  minutes.  When 


PERSIA  243 

it  was  over,  the  Shah  took  the  crown  off  his  head  and 
replaced  it  on  the  cushion.  His  Majesty  then  put 
back  his  jewelled  kola  on  his  head  and,  descending 
from  the  throne,  left  the  great  hall  without  saluting 
either  the  corps  diplomatique  or  his  own  Ministers. 
Not  a  sound  was  heard  as  he  passed  out.  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  the  ringing  cheers  which  followed 
our  own  gracious  Sovereigns  on  their  progress  down 
Westminster  Abbey  after  a  like  ceremony ! 

A  short  interval  elapsed,  after  which  all  present 
were  received  in  ceremonious  audience  by  the  new 
Shah.  Each  of  the  foreign  Representatives  made 
him  in  turn  a  congratulatory  address  on  behalf  of 
the  Sovereign  or  President  he  represented,  after 
which,  formal  leave  having  been  taken  of  the  resigning 
Regent,  everyone  left  the  Palace.  A  new  Shah  had 
entered  upon  his  reign ! 

That  evening  a  great  banquet  was  held  at  which 
the  Shah  presided.  It  was  interesting  as  being  the 
first  occasion  on  which  a  Persian  Sovereign  had  sat 
down  to  table  with  foreigners  in  his  own  country. 
The  Valiahd  took  me  in.  I  found  him  most  intelligent 
and  easy  to  talk  to. 

The  very  next  day  the  German  and  the  Belgian 
Ministers,  who  were  going  on  leave  to  Europe,  started 
together  in  one  of  the  traditional  old  landaus  in  which 
all  travellers  (except  me  !)  performed  the  journey  from 
Teheran  to  Resht.  To  lighten  the  tedium  of  the 
long  drive  they  had  elected  to  share  a  carriage,  little 
dreaming  that  before  they  reached  their  journey's 
end  they  would  become  professed  enemies  as  a  con- 
sequence of  the  Great  War,  which  by  then  had  burst 
upon  the  world.  I  have  often  wondered  how  they 
finished  that  long  drive  after  the  news  reached  them  ! 


244  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

The  Persian  capital  is  a  disappointing  place  from 
the  tourist's  point  of  view.  It  is  wanting  in  colour, 
though  nearly  always  bathed  in  glorious  sunshine. 
The  houses  are  built  of  baked  mud,  an  unpicturesque 
medium,  and  the  streets  are  very  dusty.  The  Persian 
population  is  also  uninteresting  to  the  casual  observer. 

Men  of  the  upper  classes  wear  black  frock-coats, 
but  the  fez  in  their  case  (which  they  call  kola)  is  black 
instead  of  red  as  with  the  Turk.  No  ladies,  of  course, 
are  seen  abroad,  as  they  may  not  walk  in  the  streets, 
but  through  the  windows  of  their  closed  carriages 
one  gets  glimpses  of  figures  shrouded  in  black,  their 
faces  being  veiled  as  with  all  Mohammedan  women. 
The  working  population  in  the  streets,  men  and  women, 
all  seem  to  wear  different  shades  of  the  everlasting 
blue  cotton,  but  there  is  very  little  about  them  which 
is  really  picturesque. 

The  beggars  (and  their  rags  are  often  picturesque 
if  a  little  scanty  !)  who  sit  and  beg  in  the  roadway, 
or  sometimes  take  up  their  permanent  abode  at  one's 
gates,  are  an  interesting  feature  of  the  Teheran  streets. 
We  had  an  old  fellow  who  adopted  us  in  this  way. 
For  months  he  lived  in  our  garden  on  the  house  scraps 
which  he  begged  for  daily  at  the  back  door.  He 
brought  his  mattress  and  his  water-bottle  and  his 
beggar's  bowl,  and  there  he  would  lie  or  squat,  day 
in  day  out,  until  at  last  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun  so 
threw  him  off  his  balance  that,  taking  it  as  a  personal 
matter,  after  prostrating  himself  with  tears  and 
rending  his  already  torn  garments,  he  fled  before  the 
offended  deity  resident  in  the  planet  who  thus  veiled 
his  countenance  in  anger. 

The  Shah  of  Persia  is  the  direct  descendant  of  Fath- 
Ali  Shah,  and  consequently  a  member  of  the  famous 


PERSIA  245 

tribe  of  Kajar,  whose  origin  was  Turkish.  The  Kajars 
are  a  very  numerous  tribe.  There  are  nearly  3,000 
of  them  in  different  grades  of  society,  and  all  are 
for  ever  noble,  though  some  occupy  very  menial 
positions  nowadays.  One  of  our  Legation  servants 
was  a  Kajar,  and  he  was  always  addressed  as  Kadji 
Khan,  though  he  went  out  on  the  box  of  the  carriage  ! 

Curiously  enough,  the  chief  of  the  tribe  is  not  the 
Shah.  The  Head  Kajar  is  called  Il-Khani.  But 
so  much  importance  is  attached  to  the  tribe  that 
when  it  comes  to  the  question  of  the  succession  to 
the  Throne,  the  son  of  a  Kajar  Princess  is  selected, 
even  though  he  may  not  be  the  elder  son. 

In  1913  I  deserted  my  family  and  friends  in  the 
Persian  capital  to  go  back  for  a  few  weeks  to  the 
delights  of  a  London  season.  I  had  undertaken 
to  deliver  certain  dispatches  from  my  husband  to 
the  Foreign  Office,  and  determined  to  acquit  myself 
of  my  mission  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  I  did 
the  journey  from  door  to  door  in  eight  days  and  eight 
nights.  It  was  at  that  time,  and  may  still  be,  a  world 
record. 

It  was  a  lively  and  exciting  journey.  We  had  at 
that  time  a  first-rate  chauffeur  named  Bell  and  a 
light  four-seater  touring  car  which  was  almost  the 
first  seen  in  Teheran.  The  first  stage  of  the  journey 
home  from  the  Persian  capital  to  Enzeli,  on  the  Caspian 
Sea,  had  hitherto  been  performed  by  carriage,  a  terribly 
tedious  journey  involving  three  sleepless  nights  on 
the  road  as  one  jogged  slowly  along,  stopping  at  rest- 
houses  for  only  time  enough  to  give  the  wretched 
nags  a  breather.  If  one  liked,  one  could  spend  the 
night  in  these  ill-named  rest-houses,  but  most  people 
preferred  to  push  on  after  hastily  consuming  a  cup 


246  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

of  tea.  This  is  where  I  had  the  chief  advantage  in 
point  of  speed,  for  I  covered  the  distance  by  motor 
between  8.30  one  morning  and  2  p.m.  of  the  following 
day,  when  I  reached  Enzeli  just  in  time  to  board  the 
steamer,  which  in  two  days  and  a  night  takes  one 
to  Baku  on  the  Russian  side  of  the  Caspian.  It  was 
a  breathless  race  Bell  and  I  had  to  catch  that  boat. 
Our  first  adventure  happened  before  even  we 
got  to  Kazvin,  when  we  came  to  what  in  summer- 
time would  be  a  wide  and  dry  river-bed,  but  under 
the  then  prevailing  wet  and  windy  weather  conditions 
(it  was  in  early  April)  had  become  a  sea  of  yellow 
mud,  broken  into  a  thousand  different  water  channels 
and  tiny  little  eddies.  Bell  looked  at  it  and  shook 
his  head.  He  couldn't  cross  over  a  bridge,  there 
was  none ;  he  couldn't  follow  a  course  in  the  river- 
bed, there  was  none  to  follow ;  only  slimy  mud  flats 
with  huge  boulders  in  between.  He  could  only  trust 
to  luck.  He  plunged  boldly  in  and  had  got  half-way 
across,  his  arms  being  nearly  wrenched  from  their 
sockets  in  the  effort,  when  all  of  a  sudden  came  that 
awful  whirr  of  the  engine  which  proclaims  that  it 
has  gone  on  strike  because  the  wheels  won't  bite. 
We  looked  round  for  help  in  a  country-side  which 
up  to  that  moment  I  had  thought  deserted.  But  as 
always  happens  when  there  is  a  hint  of  an  accident 
anywhere  between  London  and  Timbuctoo,  a  crowd 
sprung  from  nowhere,  instantly  gathered  on  the 
river-bank,  and  rolling  up  its  blue  cotton  trousers, 
dashed  to  our  assistance.  They  stumbled,  yelling 
and  excited,  across  the  slimy  marsh,  they  surrounded 
the  stranded  car  and  bodily  extricated  us  from  our 
unpleasant  position,  hoisting  us  to  safety  on  the 
opposite  bank. 


PERSIA  247 

The  next  incident  occurred  on  the  top  of  a  mountain 
pass,  where  we  found  a  big  German  six-cylinder  car 
drawn  up  across  the  middle  of  the  narrow  corniche 
road.  In  it,  or  rather  beside  it,  were  a  party  of 
corpulent  sons  of  the  Fatherland,  evidently  also  going 
to  Resht,,but  they  had  called  a  halt  in  order  to  obtain 
a  photographic  souvenir  of  their  party,  and  they 
stood  there  attitudinizing,  beer  glass  and  sandwich 
in  hand,  oblivious  of  our  wish  to  pass.  Almost  rude 
they  were,  ignoring  our  polite  hoot  until  the  camera 
had  clicked  and  one  of  them  was  at  liberty  to  board 
the  big  car  and  make  room  for  us  to  go  by.  After 
leaving  them,  we  continued  to  climb  the  mountain 
range  which  divided  us  from  Resht.  The  road  was 
narrow  and  the  road-bed  bad,  with  a  wall  of  rock 
on  one  side  and  a  bottomless  abyss  on  the  other,  none 
too  pleasant  a  drive  under  any  circumstances,  but 
the  Germans  made  it  worse  for  us.  A  short  time 
after  we  had  passed  them,  at  a  very  nasty  downhill 
curve,  they  caught  us  up  again,  hooting  for  all  they 
were  worth  and  with  their  exhaust  open,  so  that  they 
filled  the  countryside  with  noise.  They  passed  us, 
as  I  insisted  on  Bell  making  way  for  them,  and  the 
soldier  servants  with  them  jeered  rudely  at  us.  But 
still  later  on  that  same  evening  we  had  our  revenge, 
a  glorious  revenge,  for  we  caught  them  up  again  shiver- 
ing at  the  edge  of  a  muddy  landslide  caused  by  a 
freshet  running  down  the  mountain-side  and  falling 
into  the  valley,  right  across  the  road  we  had  per- 
force to  follow.  It  was  a  nasty  place  to  negotiate, 
as,  being  50  feet  wide  at  least,  one  could  not  guess 
at  its  depth  in  the  centre.  The  Germans  were  now 
punished  for  their  discourtesy,  for  being  in  front  of 
us  it  was  obviously  up  to  them  to  go  across  first,  if 


248  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

they  could !  We  pulled  up  and  waited  for  them. 
They  tried  to  go  full  steam  ahead,  but  their  front 
wheels  became  embedded  in  the  mud  and  they  had 
to  reverse  and  barely  got  out.  Sarcastically  they 
waved  to  us  to  try  our  luck  next.  "  We  must  do  it, 
Bell,"  I  whispered,  "  or  die  in  the  attempt."  "  You 
bet,"  he  answered,  putting  conventional  etiquette 
aside  for  a  moment,  "  we're  not  going  to  funk  it 
before  them  Germans."  We  had  a  longer  take-off 
than  the  Boches  and  a  much  lighter  car.  Setting 
his  teeth,  Bell  went  at  it  and  just  managed  to  clear  it. 
We  were  pleased.  I  could  not  resist  throwing  a  rope 
to  the  Germans  over  the  back  of  the  car  with  the 
old  familiar  gesture  as  we  sped  away  on  round  the 
next  corner.  But  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  the 
curious  coincidence  that  at  this  generally  deserted 
spot  we  had  found  yet  another  car  stuck  on  the  edge 
of  the  freshet.  It  was  a  closed  one,  and  belonged, 
as  I  afterwards  heard,  to  the  Russian  Engineering 
Company  who  had  charge  of  the  road.  In  it  was  a 
lady,  whom  I  caught  sight  of  as  we  passed,  leaning 
pathetically  out  of  the  window,  in  tears  at  her  sad 
plight.  We  were  told  later  on  that  horses  and  ropes 
had  to  be  sent  back  to  them  to  pull  them  all  through. 
All  this  made  us  very  late  for  our  sleeping-place, 
Neugil,  and  it  was  getting  dark.  So  we  determined 
to  pull  up  for  the  night  at  the  next  chapar  khanek 
(Persian  rest-house)  we  should  pass.  This  proved 
to  be  a  horrid  little  place.  But  we  supped  off  the 
provisions  in  my  basket,  and  Bell  unfolded  my  camp 
bed.  For  himself,  he  placed  a  mattress  on  the  floor 
in  the  passage  across  the  door  of  my  room,  for  I  didn't 
like  the  place  a  bit.  By  5  a.m.  the  next  morning 
we  had  the  luggage  on  board  and  were  ready  to  start, 


-   6 


*  %. 


THE  REIGNING  SHAH  OF  PERSIA 


PERSIA  249 

when,  lo !  and  behold,  it  was  found  to  be  impossible 
to  start  up  the  engine.  A  careful  inspection  revealed 
a  crack  in  the  chassis,  the  result,  doubtless,  of  some 
severe  shock  on  the  day  before.  Then  I  thought 
all  was  up,  and  I  could  see  that  Bell  did  too,  for  we 
had  even  then  barely  time  to  complete  our  journey 
to  Resht  by  2  p.m.  that  afternoon.  But  off  came  the 
luggage,  and  in  two  minutes  he  was  at  work  with  his 
tools.  In  an  incredibly  short  time  he  had  riveted 
an  iron  plate  over  the  crack  and  the  car  was  ready 
again  for  the  road.  We  started  and  thought  all  was 
right,  but  five  minutes  later  at  a  part  of  the  road  so 
narrow  that  there  was  barely  room  for  us  all,  a  long 
fleet  of  camels  came  into  view,  laden  with  coal  slung 
in  baskets.  We  took  the  safe  side  and  waited  for 
them,  squeezing  the  motor  against  the  wall  of  rock 
on  our  left,  and  the  soft-footed  animals  plodded  past 
us  at  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice.  But  in  doing 
so,  the  last  one  caught  our  wing  with  his  basket  and 
tore  it  completely  off.  I  was  thankful  the  steering 
gear  was  not  hurt.  We  patched  up  that  injury  and 
again  we  started,  but  hadn't  been  going  long  when 
Bell  declared  something  new  to  be  wrong.  The 
bonnet  was  hot.  He  got  down  and  discovered  just 
in  time  a  bad  leak  in  the  water-jacket.  The  water 
had  escaped.  He  patched  up  the  hole  and  it  took  us 
half  an  hour  at  the  next  chapar  khanek  pouring  water 
into  the  tank  with  a  teacup,  no  other  vessel  being 
handy.  Then  we  started  again,  but  ill  luck  dogged 
our  tracks !  The  luggage  carrier  broke  and  all  the 
luggage  had  to  be  shifted,  the  heavy  things  coming 
inside  with  me,  so  that  I  looked  like  the  caged  canary 
in  the  family  removal,  the  others  being  lashed  on  all 
round.  What  else  ?  Oh,  yes,  Bell  had  his  thumb 


250  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

sprained  by  a  bad  jerk  of  the  steering  wheel  and 
just  before  we  came  into  Resht  we  found  a  stretch 
of  flat  road,  half  a  mile  long,  completely  under  water. 
Bell  declared,  after  taking  soundings,  that  he  thought 
he  would  be  able  to  get  through  if  he  had  the  luck 
to  keep  out  of  a  bad  rut.  This  time  Fortune  favoured 
us,  and  we  emerged  without  getting  the  water  over 
our  footboard.  As  we  raced  through^  Resht  to  Engali 
with  still  twenty  minutes  to  spare,  I  could  see  the 
funnels  of  our  ship  in  the  port.  But  even  when  we 
got  there  our  troubles  were  not  over.  For  before 
going  on  board  we  had  to  "  garage  "  the  car  for  the 
time  of  our  absence  in  England  in  a  shed,  which,  to 
our  horror,  we  found  had  a  high  wooden  step  barring 
the  entrance.  Like  lightning  I  flew  round  looking 
for  two  short  planks,  which  luckily  I  found.  These 
I  laid  against,  and  half-way  up,  the  step  at  the  dis- 
tance apart  of  the  two  front  wheels.  I  stood  before 
the  car  and  with  my  hands  directed  Bell,  as  with  beauti- 
ful precision  he  ran  the  wheels  gently  up  the  plank, 
which  then  tipped  over  on  the  inside  of  the  doorway 
so  that  the  wheels  descended  on  them  and  the  car 
was  got  safely  inside.  In  a  moment  Bell  was  out  of 
his  seat  and  had  seized  upon  the  luggage  (luckily 
one  does  not  have  much  when  leaving  Persia),  I  locked 
the  door  of  the  shed  and  we  dashed  on  board  ship 
just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

We  had  a  lovely  smooth  crossing  of  the  Caspian 
after  all  our  troubles  on  the  road.  The  beautiful 
distressed  damsel  in  the  Embourbe  motor  turned  up 
again  on  board  and  turned  out  to  be  an  ugly  yellow- 
haired  Russian  dancer,  dressed  in  a  skin-tight  white 
cloth  dress  with  pale  green  stockings,  silver  kid  shoes 
with  h%h  heels,  and  peau  de  sutde  gloves  to  the  elbow. 


PERSIA  251 

Over  all  a  pink  silk  Persian  abbas  (cloak).  A  good 
yachting  costume  ! 

The  rest  of  my  journey  was  via  Baku  (redolent  of 
oil),  Rostoff,  Moscow  in  its  pre-war  beauty,  Kalisch, 
the  frontier  town  where  so  much  righting  took  place 
in  the  Great  War,  Berlin  and  Flushing  to  London, 
where  I  delivered  my  dispatches  at  the  Foreign  Office 
in  exactly  eight  days  and  eight  nights  from  the  time 
of  leaving  Teheran,  on  the  strength  of  which  I  claim 
a  world's  record. 

After  six  weeks'  leave  in  London,  I  had  to  return 
to  my  family  in  Teheran,  and  Lady  Kennard  came 
with  me  as  she  also  was  rejoining  her  husband  about 
that  time.  Bell,  of  course,  came  with  us,  as  we  were 
to  motor  again  from  the  Caspian  to  Teheran.  I 
took  out  a  set  of  new  tyres  and  tubes  for  the  old  car, 
and  before  long  we  needed  them,  for  we  had  no  less 
than  nineteen  punctures  in  the  first  six  hours  after 
leaving  the  coast !  Bell  repaired  them  all  with  wonder- 
ful skill  and  patience,  but  as  he  fixed  the  last  patch 
on  the  last  tube  he  remarked  pathetically :  "If  this 
one  goes,  we're  done."  It  did  go,  even  before  we 
had  started.  For  the  pump  handle  broke  in  pumping 
up  the  tyre,  and  so  we  were  unable  to  inflate  it.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  wait  by  the  roadside 
en  plein  desert  till,  in  the  course  of  time,  the  carriage 
which  was  bringing  the  mails  in  the  time-honoured 
fashion  should  catch  us  up  !  This  could  not  be  till 
the  following  day,  as  we  had  a  six  hours'  motor-car 
start  of  it.  So  we  took  the  cushions  out  of  the  car 
and  our  provisions,  such  as  they  were,  and  cooked 
some  eggs  in  an  Etna  and  ate  a  few  bananas.  And 
we  waited,  hour  after  hour,  through  that  evening, 
through  that  night,  and  the  whole  of  the  next  inter- 


252  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

minable  day,  till  midnight  of  the  following  night, 
when  we  were  aroused  from  fitful  sleep  by  the  sound 
of  distant  tinkling  carriage  bells.  Slowly  the  sound 
approached,  until  finally,  in  the  bright  moonlight, 
we  descried  the  old  victoria  with  its  pair  of  ragged 
horses.  How  grateful  we  were  to  exchange  them  for 
the  discarded  motor-car,  of  which  we  had  been  so 
proud  !  Bell,  of  course,  had  to  remain  behind  with 
it  till  we  could  send  assistance,  but  he  was  a  really 
good  sportsman  and  never  uttered  a  grumble  as  he 
tucked  us  in  and  bade  us  God-speed.  We  started, 
and  so  tired  were  we  of  doing  nothing  in  the  blazing 
desert  sun  that  we  soon  fell  fast  asleep,  lulled  by  the 
monotonous  jog-trot  of  the  horses  under  the  desert 
moon.  But  suddenly — crash  !  I  was  awakened,  see- 
ing stars  indeed.  I  rolled  over  and  sat  up  on  the 
sand.  What  had  happened  ?  I  looked  round  and 
saw  Lady  Kennard  rolling  in  the  sand  also  a  few  yards 
away,  and  between  us  the  fragments  of  a  broken 
carriage  and  two  horses  struggling  on  their  sides. 
The  driver  came  up  to  see  if  we  were  hurt.  The  axle 
of  the  carriage  had  broken  from  some  jolt  more  violent 
than  usual  and  the  wheels  had  fallen  apart !  Again 
we  had  no  prospect  but  to  wait !  This  time  our  hopes 
were  centred  on  the  luggage  cart,  which,  starting 
when  we  did,  would  creep  forward  by  infinitely 
slow  stages  till  it  caught  up  the  carriage.  And, 
indeed,  it  did  turn  up  next  day  when  the  sun  was 
already  high  in  the  heavens  and  the  heat  of  its  vertical 
rays  had  become  almost  unbearable,  for  we  had  no 
shelter  where  we  sat.  The  luggage  was  dragged 
out  of  it  and  we  crept  into  it,  feeling  more  miserable 
than  words  can  say.  Slowly,  oh !  so  miserably 
slowly,  we  started  again.  Never  shall  I  forget  that 


THE  AUTHOR'S  LITTLE   SON,   STEVE 

In  the  Native  Dress  given  him  at  Teheran  in  1915  by  the 

Baktiari  Chief 


PERSIA  253 

journey  in  the  creaking  cart,  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
the  fare  of  the  so-called  rest-houses,  the  fatigue  in  our 
bones — the  whole  of  that  long  journey  from  England. 
I  can  laugh  over  it  now,  though  at  the  time  I  was  in 
no  mood  to  do  so.  We  arrived  in  Teheran  more  dead 
than  alive  !  Such  are  the  infinite  varieties  of  Persian 
travelling. 

The  British  Legation  in  Teheran  is  an  impressive 
building.  A  white-stuccoed,  green-shuttered  house 
with  French  windows  opening  on  to  a  55-yard-long 
verandah,  leading  down  by  a  flight  of  broad  steps  to 
a  garden  full  of  roses  and  nightingales,  shaded  by 
avenues  of  tall  ombues  (a  great  tree  indigenous  to 
Persia  and  India).  As  the  water  in  Teheran  is  all 
brought  from  the  mountains  by  a  system  of  under- 
ground kanets  (pipes),  the  gardens  are  intersected  by 
prepared  channels  for  its  reception,  which  are  opened 
at  frequent  intervals  by  a  water  coolie,  whose  duty 
it  is  to  see  that  these  rivulets  run  freely,  unobstructed 
over  their  bed  of  turquoise  blue  tiles.  Round  the 
Legation  compound  (as  they  call  the  many-acred 
enclosure,  which  is  surrounded  by  walls  and  entered 
through  imposing  gateways),  dotted  about  in  their 
own  bright  little  gardens,  are  the  houses  of  the  Secre- 
taries and  Consular  Staff.  Our  Legation  is  about  the 
only  big  open  space  in  Teheran  where  the  trees  have 
been  allowed  to  stand  and  the  grass  lawns  have  been 
watered  and  tended  by  succeeding  generations  of 
Ministers,  whose  chief  relaxation  is  the  careful  super- 
intendence of  this  oasis  in  the  desert. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
BELGIUM 

My  work  for  the  Censorship  in  London — We  go  to  The  Hague — 
British  prisoners  of  war — A  visit  to  Zeebrugge — I  follow  up 
the  retiring  Germans — Bruges — The  underground  club  of  the 
U-boat  officers — An  eye-witness  of  how  Captain  Fryatt  went 
to  his  death — The  devastation  of  War — The  tragic  glory  of 
Ypres,  and  how  the  King  of  the  Belgians  re-entered  the 
martyred  town. 

AFTER  leaving  Persia,  Walter  remained  some 
months  en  disponibilite  in  London,  during 
which  time  he  did  voluntary  war  work  at  the  Foreign 
Trade  Department,  where  he  was  associated  with 
Sir  Laming  Worthington-Evans,  now  Minister  for 
War. 

I  filled  up  the  same  interval  at  the  Censorship  in 
Salisbury  House,  Moorgate  Street,  where  I  worked 
very  hard.  Little  did  I  deserve  the  gibe  of  the  cheeky 
school-urchin  who,  being  allowed  to  take  a  short 
cut  with  his  schoolfellows  from  Moorgate  Street 
to  Finsbury  Pavement  through  the  broad-paved 
corridors  of  Salisbury  House,  passed  the  door  of  my 
office,  on  which  was  inscribed  "  Lady  Susan  Townley," 
and  mischievously  changed  the  letter  "  d  "  into  a 
"  z,"  thus  stigmatizing  my  conduct  in  a  wholly 
unmerited  manner  ! 

The  head  of  our  Department  was  Major  Du  Cros, 
who,  poor  man,  was  afterwards  drowned  on  a  sea 

254 


BELGIUM  255 

voyage  which  he  took  on  some  official  business,  the 
ship  in  which  he  travelled  being  torpedoed. 

He  was  very  severe,  in  fact,  so  was  the  War  Office, 
on  anything  savouring  of  indiscretion  in  our  Depart- 
ment. One  morning  when  I  arrived,  he  sent  for 
me  to  say  that  one  of  the  young  ladies  working  under 
me  was  to  appear  that  day  before  the  military 
authorities  and  would  probably  be  dismissed  for 
indiscretion. 

The  story  of  what  she  had  done  had  reached  their 
ears  in  the  following  indirect  way,  which  shows  how 
very  much  alive  they  were  to  everything  that  was 
going  on. 

Miss  A.  lunched  one  day  at  Miss  B.'s  flat  in  Vic- 
toria Mansions,  and  two  other  girl  friends  were  present. 
The  conversation  turned  upon  young  Captain  C., 
who  had  been  engaged  before  the  war  to  a  friend  of 
theirs. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  over,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  "  they 
have  broken  it  off." 

"  Not  at  all,"  chipped  in  the  girl  in  my  office. 
"  A  letter  passed  through  my  hands  to-day  which 
proves  that  it  is  very  much  on." 

That  evening  Miss  B.  sat  in  her  flat  and  wrote 
to  a  friend  in  Canada.  Again  the  subject  of  Captain 
C.'s  matrimonial  affairs  cropped  up.  She  told  of 
the  luncheon  that  day,  and  of  how  she  had  heard 
from  a  girl  in  the  "  Censorship  "  that  young  C.'s 
affair  was  going  on  all  right. 

Her  letter  was  censored  at  Liverpool.  From  there 
a  telegram  was  sent  back  to  the  War  Office  :  "  Look 
out  for  a  girl  in  the  Censorship  who  lunched  last  Tues- 
day at  a  flat  in  Victoria  Mansions,  and  who  has  been 
talking !  " 

R 


256  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

A  detective  called  on  Miss  B.  and  asked  her  for 
the  name  of  this  "  girl "  in  the  "  Censorship."  At  first 
she  refused  to  give  it,  but  when  she  was  quietly  told 
that  her  refusal  meant  a  heavy  fine  and  possibly 
imprisonment,  she  yielded,  with  the  result  that  her 
friend  got  dismissed. 

Indeed,  they  were  terribly  strict  on  this  point. 
Another  day  Major  Du  Cros  sent  for  me  to  say  that 
one  of  our  Censors  had  been  overheard  talking  at 
a  restaurant  in  the  city.  Would  I  find  out  which 
one  it  was  ?  I  asked  if  he  could  give  me  any  hint 
to  guide  me.  He  said  all  he  knew  was  that  she  had 
a  pink  feather  in  her  hat.  So  that  evening  when 
the  time  came  to  stop  work,  I  took  up  my  post  at 
the  door  of  the  building,  and  of  course  spotted  the 
feather  as  it  went  out.  Luckily  for  me,  there  was 
only  one  pink  feather  that  day,  or  I  might  have 
found  myself  in  a  quandary. 

But  my  time  in  the  Censorship  only  lasted  a  few 
months,  for  in  January,  1917,  Walter  was  appointed 
Minister  at  The  Hague  in  succession  to  Sir  Alan 
Johnstone.  The  announcement  of  his  selection  to 
fill  that  difficult  post  was  informally  conveyed  to 
him  at  Charing  Cross  Station  by  the  Prime  Minister, 
who  in  the  interval  of  his  bustling  preparations  for 
departure  on  one  of  his  Continental  missions  told  him 
that  he  looked  upon  Holland  as  the  locked  door 
between  England  and  Germany  and  that  he  wanted 
some  one  reliable  at  the  keyhole  of  that  door. 

So  we  started  on  February  2,  crossing  the  North 
Sea  in  the  Copenhagen  on  the  first  day  of  the  intensified 
U-boat  campaign.  We  were  very  lucky  in  so  far 
as  the  sea  was  absolutely  calm,  but  the  cold  was  so 
great  that  as  we  neared  the  Dutch  coast  we  navigated 


BELGIUM  257 

through  a  sea  of  floating  ice  washed  out  by  the  tide 
from  the  frozen  mouth  of  the  river. 

We  were  escorted  by  fourteen  "  destroyers "  of 
the  newest  and  fastest  type.  I  suppose  it  was  felt 
that  the  capture  on  the  High  Seas  of  the  newly 
appointed  British  Minister  to  Holland  would  offer 
too  great  an  advertisement  to  Admiral  Tirpitz  to 
permit  of  any  risk  being  taken  in  this  connexion. 

We  arrived  safely  at  the  Hook,  where  we  were 
met  by  motors  from  The  Hague  in  which  we  travelled 
to  the  Legation. 

Our  new  official  home  when  I  first  saw  it,  though 
possibly  attractive  in  peace  time,  reminded  me  of 
nothing  so  much  as  of  a  terminus  hotel.  It  was 
terribly  overcrowded,  as  it  had  been  deemed  wise 
to  collect  under  one  roof  all  the  British  interests 
in  the  town.  It  was  a  good  arrangement,  at  least  so 
far  as  Walter  was  concerned,  as  it  enabled  him  to 
do  all  his  work  on  the  spot.  The  beautiful  ball- 
room and  even  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  on  the 
ground  floor  had  been  partitioned  off  and  converted 
into  offices  for  the  four  working  departments,  Diplo- 
matic, Naval,  Military  and  Commercial.  No  less 
than  fifty  people,  including  clerks  and  typists,  worked 
day  in  day  out  in  that  house,  the  click  of  the  type- 
writer forming  an  unceasing  accompaniment  to  the 
buzz  of  conversation  and  the  shout  of  the  telephone. 

Each  Department  had  its  own  visitors,  whose 
coming  and  going  continued  uninterruptedly.  In 
the  front  hall,  which  I  frequently  had  to  cross,  sat 
odd-looking  men  waiting  in  odd  corners,  strewing 
the  tables  and  chairs  with  odd-looking  coats  and 
hats.  Every  type  of  man  seemed  to  gravitate  to  the 
Legation  on  some  business  or  other,  from  the  pros- 


258  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

perous  Dutch  merchant  growing  fat  on  the  war  to 
the  British  commercial  agent  and  the  German  spy, 
to  say  nothing  of  Foreign  diplomatists  and  British 
Flying  and  Naval  Officers,  whose  ill-luck  had  brought 
them  to  grief  at  some  time  or  another  in  Dutch 
territory  and  who  were  therefore  "  interned "  for 
the  duration  of  the  war. 

We  found  a  pleasant  corps  diplomatique  at  The 
Hague,  but  to  our  horror  we  discovered  that  the 
German  Minister  and  his  wife  were  Dr.  and  Frau 
Rosen,  who  had  been  former  colleagues  of  ours  in 
Bucharest  in  the  year  1911,  not  so  very  long  before 
the  war.  I  was  disagreeably  shocked  to  find  them 
in  The  Hague,  for  it  is  astonishingly  difficult  to  be 
rude  and  to  "  cut  "  a  man  in  the  street  even  when 
he  is  an  "  enemy,"  and  more  especially  when  he  is 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  who  is  a  countrywoman  of 
your  own ! 

I  remember  the  first  time  we  met  the  Rosens  under 
these  circumstances.  It  was  in  a  narrow  country  lane 
on  the  way  to  Klingendaal,  the  country  seat  of 
Baroness  Daisy  de  Brienen.  We  saw  them  coming  from 
a  long  way  off.  They  were  walking,  so  were  we.  We 
had  to  meet ;  there  was  no  way  out !  It  was  a 
very  hot  day  and  he  wore  his  straw  hat  hanging  from 
his  waistcoat  button.  He  had  taken  off  his  coat, 
which  he  carried  on  one  arm  (a  sans-gene  in  a  foreign 
capital  typical  of  a  German),  his  wife  hung  on  the 
other. 

Agonizingly  I  implored  Walter  for  instructions. 
Might  I  salute  them  ?  It  was  so  difficult  not  to. 
We  had  known  them  so  well  in  Bucharest :  we  had 
often  dined  in  each  other's  houses !  No !  was  his 
stem  rejoinder.  So  we  met  and  passed  each  other 


BELGIUM  259 

in  that  narrow  lane,  both  parties  gazing  sky  high 
in  the  attempt  to  look  unconcernedly  over  the  heads 
of  the  others.  I  didn't  like  it  a  bit,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  they  were  "  enemies." 

Shortly  after  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  Rosen 
was  named  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  in  the 
Republican  Government  of  his  country.  Strange 
for  one  who  was  so  favoured  by  the  deposed  Kaiser ! 
His  nature  must  partake,  I  suppose,  of  some  of  the 
attributes  of  the  sunflower. 

His  career  has  been  meteoric.  He  is  evidently 
favoured  by  the  god  of  luck  or  opportunities.  He 
began  life  in  quite  a  small  way,  and  was  at  one  time 
tutor  to  Lord  Dufferin's  boys,  when  the  latter  was 
Viceroy  of  India.  No  doubt  he  then  had  excellent 
opportunities  of  picking  up  crumbs  of  official  infor- 
mation which  fell  from  the  Viceregal  table,  for  which 
he  would  be  rewarded  by  his  Government.  For 
as  is  now  pretty  generally  known,  all  German  patriots 
leaving  the  Fatherland  to  seek  their  fortunes  in 
strange  lands  (whether  as  diplomatists,  waiters  or 
bagmen)  were  subsidized  by  the  German  Government 
to  send  home  a  periodical  letter  giving  such  informa- 
tion as  they  might  be  able  to  collect  concerning  the 
country  they  were  in. 

After  he  left  the  service  of  Lord  Dufferin,  Dr.  Rosen 
was  for  many  years  interpreter  at  the  German  Legation 
at  Teheran,  where  Frau  Rosen  nearly  died  of  cholera. 
She  is  an  Englishwoman,  a  distinguished  pianist, 
the  daughter  of  old  Roche,  in  whose  classes  we  most 
of  us  learnt  our  French. 

After  Persia,  Dr.  Rosen  was  found  at  Jerusalem, 
where  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  Consul  at  the 
tune  of  the  Kaiser's  celebrated  visit  to  the  Holy 


260  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Land  in  1899.  We  hear  of  him  taking  a  very 
prominent  part  in  Tangiers,  where  he  was  Minister 
and  where  his  then  British  colleague  was  fully  alive 
to  his  activities.  From  there,  via  Algeciras,  he 
reached  Bucharest,  which  he  had  to  leave,  nominally 
on  account  of  his  insufficient  means,  but  really,  it 
was  whispered,  because  Frau  Rosen  failed  in  her 
attentions  to  a  lady  very  dear  to  Kiderlen-Waechter, 
Rosen's  predecessor  at  Bucharest,  who  had  left  that 
post  to  become  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  in  Berlin. 

I  had  forgotten  all  about  the  Rosens  after  we 
left  Bucharest  until  while  I  was  at  the  Censorship 
they  were  recalled  to  my  mind  by  a  curious  incident. 
The  profound  knowledge  of  German  which  I  had 
acquired  under  the  ruthless  discipline  of  a  succession 
of  Teutonic  Frauleins  had  resulted  in  my  being 
appointed  D.A.C.  (Deputy  Assistant  Censor)  in  the 
German  branch  of  that  office.  In  the  discharge 
of  my  duties  I  was  going  from  one  Department  to 
another  one  day,  when  in  the  lift  I  was  accosted  by 
a  little  man,  a  stranger  to  myself.  He  introduced 
himself  as  Mr.  Roche.  "  You  will  realize  at  once 
who  I  am,"  he  said,  "  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  the 
brother  of  Mrs.  Rosen,  the  wife  of  the  German  Minister 
at  The  Hague  !  " 

I  confess  I  was  amazed  at  his  introducing  himself 
to  me  on  those  grounds,  and  still  more  at  the  fact 
that  a  fellow-worker  in  that  particular  office  should  be 
a  brother-in-law  of  the  German  Minister  at  The  Hague. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  in  Holland  I  went  to  Gronin- 
gen,  in  the  north-east  corner  of  it,  to  visit  there  the 
huge  camp  of  interned  British  soldiers.  Nearly  all 
of  them  belonged  to  the  Royal  Naval  Division  and 
became  prisoners  of  the  Dutch  when,  after  the  oUsas- 


BELGIUM  261 

trous  Antwerp  fiasco,  they  crossed  over  into  Holland 
to  avoid  being  captured  by  the  Germans. 

I  found  them  all  herded  together,  behind  barbed 
wire,  in  wooden  barracks.  They  were  trying  hard 
to  make  the  best  of  things.  But  the  great  danger 
to  these  men  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  few  devoted 
officers  who  had  obtained  permission  from  the  Dutch 
Government  to  share  their  imprisonment  was  their 
enforced  idleness.  They  might  not  even  be  put 
through  their  ordinary  peace-time  drill,  which  would 
have  been  a  help  in  maintaining  some  sort  of  discipline. 

There  was  nothing  from  morning  till  evening 
that  they  were  obliged  to  do  !  Think  what  that  meant 
when  such  numbers  were  crowded  together  under 
conditions  of  almost  unbearable  discomfort,  with  all 
privacy  eliminated.  The  officers  tackled  the  situation 
in  a  manner  that  did  them  the  highest  credit.  The 
men  were  encouraged  to  busy  themselves  in  any 
way  they  would,  from  gardening  to  carving,  toy- 
making,  straw  plaiting,  acting,  singing  and  learning 
languages. 

We  received  no  fewer  than  eight  escaped  British 
officers  at  the  Legation  in  the  first  months  that  we 
were  there.  Most  of  them  got  away  by  jumping  out 
of  moving  trains  while  they  were  being  transferred 
from  one  camp  to  another.  They  had  hairbreadth 
adventures.  Some  of  them  had  the  cheek  to  walk 
right  across  Germany  and  yet  got  safely  over  the 
Dutch  frontier.  Most  of  them  walked  all  night  and 
spent  the  day  in  hiding,  sometimes  creeping  up  drain 
pipes  in  the  fields  to  avoid  being  scented  by  the  blood- 
hounds. They  looked  like  scarecrows  when  they 
arrived,  having  had  nothing  to  eat  for  days,  in  most 
cases,  but  a  little  chocolate. 


262  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

The  economic  conditions  of  Holland  deteriorated 
as  the  war  progressed.  There  was  no  coal.  Even 
the  richest  people  had  to  do  with  one  fire  in  the  house, 
and  if  they  elected  to  have  that  one  fire  in  the  drawing- 
room  or  dining-room,  the  dinner  had  to  be  cooked 
there  as  well.  Electric  light  was  strictly  rationed  to 
save  fuel.  Bread  was  rationed — only  300  grammes 
per  head  per  diem.  Everything  was  of  exorbitant 
price.  Tea,  coffee,  whisky,  and  nearly  all  groceries 
were  unobtainable  ;  so  was  meat. 

In  May,  1917,  I  undertook  at  Walter's  request 
some  work  called  for  by  the  Department  of  Informa- 
tion then  under  Colonel  Buchan.  Daily  and  imme- 
diate news  was  required  of  what  was  happening 
in  Germany  as  reported  in  the  German  Press.  The 
already  overworked  diplomatic  Chancery  could  not 
be  asked  to  do  more,  so  Walter  proposed  that  I  should 
undertake  the  work.  This  was  agreed  to,  so  from  that 
day  my  name  figured  in  the  F.O.  list,  and  I  was 
immensely  proud.  Henceforth  I  spent  my  days 
reading  the  German  papers  and  telegraphing  home 
a  digest  of  their  contents,  news  which  otherwise 
would  reach  home  at  very  uncertain  intervals  or  not  at 
all,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  forwarding  mails  across 
the  North  Sea  on  account  of  the  U-boat  activity. 

It  was  most  interesting  work,  though  very  tiring, 
as  I  had  to  read  at  least  a  dozen  papers  daily  to  get 
a  fair  idea  from  all  shades  of  the  Press  as  to  how 
things  were  going.  When  it  came  to  translating 
Resolutions  in  the  Reichstag,  the  Minutes  of  important 
Committee  meetings  and  Press  comments  on  sug- 
gested Peace  terms,  it  was  no  joke,  as  one  dared  not 
make  a  mistake  for  fear  of  presenting  a  misleading 
view  of  the  question. 


BELGIUM  263 

On  May  23,  after  I  had  sent  out  over  a  hundred 
wires,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  P.O.  saying 
that  my  telegrams  summarizing  the  current  of  thought 
in  the  German  Press  were  admirable  and  so  useful 
that  they  deserved  further  publicity.  As  Lord 
Hardinge  saw  no  objection,  they  would  be  communi- 
cated to  the  Press  and  put  out  through  the  Press  Bureau. 

Encouraged  by  the  feeling  that  my  work  was 
really  of  use,  I  stuck  to  it  till  the  Armistice.  I  sent 
home  over  1,000  telegrams. 

As  time  went  on,  and  after  the  British  prisoners  of 
war  arrived  at  The  Hague  (at  the  end  of  December, 
1917)  to  be  interned  there  for  the  duration  of 
hostilities,  our  activities,  other  than  diplomatic, 
increased  amazingly.  The  Red  Cross  kept  us  hard 
at  work.  I  opened  seven  branches  of  Queen  Mary's 
Needlework  Guild  in  different  parts  of  Holland,  in 
all  of  which  the  ladies  of  the  British  Colony  and 
many  of  our  Dutch  friends  worked  untiringly  to 
make  hospital  appliances  and  the  necessary  com- 
forts for  the  repatriated  sick  and  totally  incapacitated 
British  soldiers  who  passed  through  Holland  on  their 
way  to  England.  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  Frontier 
to  welcome  them,  and  boarded  the  long  German 
ambulance  train  at  Rosendaal,  travelling  back  in 
it  to  Rotterdam.  The  train  of  twenty-seven  coaches 
was  entirely  made  up  of  cots  filled  with  mutilated, 
blind,  armless,  legless,  insane  and  dying  soldiers. 
One  imagined  one  would  never  find  courage  to  travel 
up  and  down  those  carriages  from  one  bed  to  another, 
greeting  their  poor  occupants.  But  the  atmosphere 
created  by  them,  far  from  being  sad,  was  positively 
gay.  I  never  saw  such  cheerfulness,  such  courage 
and  resignation.  The  sound  of  an  English  voice 


264  *  INDISCRETIONS ' 

seemed  to  bring  "  Blighty "  nearer  to  them,  and 
they  were  so  anxious  to  get  there,  poor  lads ! 

The  Y.M.C.A.  also  established  many  centres  in 
The  Hague,  and  called  for  volunteer  assistance. 
We  opened  one  Club  in  the  basement  of  the  British 
Legation  where  scores  of  N.C.O.  prisoners  of  war  came 
to  spend  their  leisure.  Being  very  large,  like  every- 
thing else  about  the  house,  the  transformed  base- 
ment was  able  to  accommodate  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men  at  a  time.  They  had  their  kitchen,  tea- 
room, reading-room  and  billiard-room. 

Upstairs  we  opened  a  Club  for  Officers,  devoting 
two  of  the  large  State  rooms  to  this  purpose.  The 
need  for  this  Club  arose  from  the  fact  that  the  expenses 
of  hotel  life  in  The  Hague  were  prohibitive,  and 
as  many  of  the  fiancees  and  friends  of  the  officers 
came  to  The  Hague,  it  was  urgent  to  find  some  quiet 
place  where  they  could  meet,  have  tea  and  read 
the  home  papers.  It  gave  us  a  much-valued  oppor- 
tunity also  of  becoming  acquainted  with  them  all. 
Several  of  the  officers  were  eventually  married  from 
the  Legation.  Their  fiancees  (camouflaged  in  most 
cases  as  "  V.A.D.'s  for  the  British  Hospital,"  for 
they  were  only  allowed  to  enter  Holland  in  some 
sort  of  official  capacity)  stayed  with  us  before  the 
great  event,  and  Walter  gave  them  away  at  the 
wedding  ceremony  which  took  place  in  the  English 
church.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  be  able  to  give 
them  as  English  a  wedding  as  could  be  contrived 
under  war  conditions.  I  have  got  a  valued  book 
of  photographs  of  all  these  marriage  groups,  taken 
at  the  Legation  after  the  wedding  breakfasts,  and 
before  the  bridal  pairs  started  on  their  honeymoon. 

In  October,  1918,  thanks  to  Walter's  official  position 


BELGIUM  265 

at  The  Hague,  and  through  the  kind  offices  of  General 
Onnen,  I  obtained  from  the  Dutch  Commander- 
in-Chief,  General  Snyders,  a  pass  for  myself  and  a 
friend  which  facilitated  our  entry  into  Belgium  at 
a  place  called  Sluis,  not  many  miles  from  Zeebrugge, 
on  the  northern  coast.  I  thus  had  the  exceptionally 
good  fortune  to  be  able  to  visit  our  neighbours  the 
Belgians  before  the  Armistice  was  signed,  and  before 
the  process  began  of  removing  the  traces  of  German 
"  occupation." 

We  travelled  in  our  own  closed  motor-car,  carrying 
as  little  luggage  as  we  could,  and  spent  our  first  night 
on  Belgian  soil  at  Knocke.  I  slept  in  a  tiny  room, 
the  windows  of  which  were  all  broken  by  recent 
explosions  of  munition  dumps. 

Before  evacuating,  the  Germans  had  mined  their 
coast  batteries  (among  them  the  celebrated  Kaiser 
Wilhelm  battery)  and  thoughtfully  timed  the  mines 
to  explode  after  their  departure.  They  had  also 
deprived  the  town  of  light  by  severing  all  the  electric 
wires,  and  of  telegrams  and  telephone  service  by 
sawing  through  the  poles. 

On  the  door  of  my  room  was  a  notice  still  hanging, 
which  announced  in  best  Gothic  caligraphy,  "  Offiziers 
Zimmer.  Muss  nicht  mit  Burschen  belegt  werden  " 
(Officers'  Room.  Not  to  be  occupied  by  orderlies). 
As  there  was  nothing  to  eat,  we  went  to  bed  supper- 
less.  I  wrapped  myself  in  my  rug — there  were  no 
such  things  as  blankets  in  that  hotel — and  after 
extinguishing  the  candle  stuck  in  a  toy  lantern,  by 
the  light  of  which  I  undressed,  I  pillowed  my  head 
on  my  motor-coat  and,  like  a  tired  campaigner,  fell 
asleep,  too  exhausted  even  to  dream  of  the  late 
occupants  of  the  room. 


266  « INDISCRETIONS ' 

Next  morning  the  "  Commandant  de  la  Place  " 
paid  us  a  visit  and  later  himself  accompanied  us  in 
our  motor  to  Zeebrugge.  Our  feelings  can  better  be 
imagined  than  described  as  we  approached  the  scene 
of  that  most  glorious  episode  in  our  naval  history. 

We  drove  through  the  town  along  a  road  parallel 
with  the  sea-front,  and  at  a  given  point  left  the  car 
and  climbed  from  it  to  the  top  of  the  dunes,  where 
those  murderous  15-inch  guns  were  posted  which 
defended  the  entrance  to  the  Bruges  Canal. 

Unused  ammunition  in  the  shape  of  great  six-foot 
shells  lay  piled  around  them.  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
in  many  cases  the  fragmentary  condition  of  these 
ammunition  depots,  blown  to  pieces  by  well-aimed 
shots,  gave  evidence  of  the  wonderful  marksmanship 
of  the  British  monitors,  which  shelled  them  con- 
tinuously from  a  distance  of  anything  up  to  twenty- 
three  land  miles. 

We  stepped  among  the  debris  of  those  batteries 
looking  about  us  curiously.  In  one  of  them  I  found 
the  undress  clasp  of  an  Iron  Cross  evidently  dropped 
there  by  an  officer.  I  could  not  help  wondering 
what  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the  defenders 
of  those  batteries  on  the  night  of  that  unexpected 
attack.  I  had  on  a  later  occasion  a  long  talk  with 
the  proprietor  of  the  big  hotel  just  beyond  the  Mole. 
The  Germans  kept  him  a  close  prisoner  during  all 
the  time  of  their  Occupation,  though  he  was  forced 
to  run  his  hotel  for  their  benefit,  and  he  told  me 
of  the  awful  panic  that  prevailed,  so  greatly  enhanced 
by  the  unexpectedness  of  the  attack  and  by  the 
fact  that  owing  to  the  darkness  and  the  terrific  din 
the  Germans  could  not  precisely  locate  the  enemy 
nor  grasp  the  significance  of  his  movements.  They 


BELGIUM  267 

could  not  even  distinguish  for  certain  between  friend 
and  foe  ! 

As  we  entered  Zeebrugge  on  that  morning  (October 
23),  only  two  days  after  the  Germans  had  left  it, 
one  of  their  mines  in  the  harbour  exploded,  sending 
up  a  huge  black  column  of  smoke.  It  seemed  to 
bring  them  unpleasantly  near  one. 

As  we  walked  along  the  shore  batteries  our  strain- 
ing eyes  were  at  last  rewarded  by  the  distant  vision 
of  the  Mole,  and  presently  we  could  distinguish  the 
huge  gap  in  it  where  four  months  before  that  gallant 
young  officer,  Lieutenant  Richard  Sandford,  had 
destroyed  the  railway  viaduct  which  connected  the 
two  ends  of  it  by  running  his  submarine  L3  at  a 
speed  of  10  knots  between  the  piers  that  supported 
it  and  there  blowing  her  up.  By  this  great  feat 
he  prevented  all  reinforcements  from  the  shore  from 
coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  defenders  on  the 
extreme  end  of  the  Mole.  He  himself  fired  the  time- 
fuse, after  the  crew  had  abandoned  the  ship  by  his 
orders,  and  then  jumped  into  the  motor  skiff  with 
them. 

Some  time  after  this  heroic  episode  I  met  Lieutenant 
Sandford 's  brother,  who  had  also  been  present  on 
that  night  in  charge  of  a  picket-boat  detailed  off 
for  rescue  work,  and  he  told  me  how  his  brother, 
though  severely  wounded,  had  returned  as  cool  as 
a  cucumber  from  his  great  adventure.  He  died  in 
his  bed,  a  few  months  after,  of  typhoid  fever,  I 
think. 

Our  next  visit,  in  Bruges,  was  to  a  villa  close  to  the 
port  belonging  to  a  gentleman  called  Monsieur  Catulle, 
N.P.  For  more  than  three  years  the  German  sub- 
marine commanders  had  their  head-quarters  in  this 


268  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

villa.  At  first  the  house  was  used  as  the  permanent 
head-quarters  of  the  submarine  officers,  who  returned 
to  it  after  their  various  excursions.  But  later,  when 
the  fear  of  British  bombardments  entered  into  their 
souls,  they  found  these  quarters  too  precarious,  and 
they  abandoned  them  as  far  as  sleeping  was  con- 
cerned, although  they  converted  the  cellars  into 
a  kind  of  dug-out  which  they  used  as  a  club. 

A  small  door  and  staircase  led  down  into  these 
cellars.  On  the  wall,  descending  with  the  gradient 
of  the  stairs,  was  painted  a  processional  danse  macabre, 
each  figure  in  which  was  a  torpedo  with  human  face, 
legs  and  arms.  On  the  right  arm  of  each  was  painted 
one  letter  of  the  device  "  Ja,  die  U-boot  Flotillie  ist 
da!" 

From  the  ceiling  of  the  biggest  of  the  vaulted 
chambers  hung  a  British  ship's  wheel,  to  which  were 
suspended,  in  close  juxtaposition,  the  ship's  bells 
of  all  the  Entente  vessels  seized  by  the  U-boat  com- 
manders. When  the  supper  revels  were  at  their 
height,  the  din  was  added  to  by  a  turn  given  to  this 
wheel,  which  set  all  the  bells  jangling  at  the  same  time. 

The  walls  of  the  cellars  had  been  gaily  painted 
with  a  frieze,  in  which  champagne  bottles  figured 
prominently,  with  vulgar  scenes,  such  as  German 
sailors  discharging  a  champagne  bottle  in  the  shape 
of  a  torpedo  at  a  certain  part  of  John  Bull's  person, 
who,  under  the  impact  of  the  blow,  was  seen  leaping 
into  the  air. 

Under  each  picture  was  an  inscription  inspired 
by  wine  and  women.  The  most  vulgar  of  them 
adorned  a  small  inner  chamber,  on  the  walls  of  which 
was  painted  a  nude  woman,  labelled,  "  Aber  hier 
wohnt  Emma !  " 


BELGIUM  269 

Every  night,  apparently,  the  U-boat  officers  held 
their  carnival  in  this  underground  club.  Frequently, 
when  called  away  to  duty,  they  were  so  intoxicated 
that  they  had  to  be  conducted  to  their  vessels  sup- 
ported under  either  arm  by  sailors.  Prince  Adalbert 
was  a  frequent  visitor  and  joined  the  officers  in  their 
revels. 

Of  the  forty  submarine  officers  the  Catulle  ser- 
vants knew  in  this  club,  only  four  remained  alive 
at  the  time  of  the  evacuation ;  apparently  thirty- 
six  had  met  their  end  in  the  discharge  of  their  death- 
dealing  mission.  The  survivors,  however,  never 
allowed  themselves  to  be  depressed,  and  there  was 
no  check  on  their  nocturnal  orgies  if  one  of  their 
number  failed  to  return. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  clean  up  to-night,"  said  one 
of  the  four  survivors  to  the  maid  on  the  last  day, 
as  they  were  about  to  flee  on  the  near  approach  of 
the  Allies.  "  Tommy  kommt  Morgen  "  (Tommy  is 
coming  to-morrow)  .  .  . 

We  went  to  have  our  papers  put  in  order  by  the 
Military  Commandant,  de  la  Place  de  Bruges.  He 
gave  me  a  pass  dated  the  23.  10.  18.,  couched  in  the 
following  words : — 

"  Lady  Susan  Townley,  femme  du  Ministre  d'Angleterre  a  la 
Haye,  est  autorisee  a  circular  librement  a  toutes  heures  du  jour 
et  de  la  nuit,  par  tous  les  moyens  de  transport.  Valable  jusqu'au 
15  Novembre  1918."  (The  Armistice  was  signed  on  November  n.) 

Armed  with  this  document  I  no  longer  had  any 
difficulty  in  going  wheresoever  my  interest  prompted 
me  to  explore. 

My  first  visit  was  to  the  churchyard  where  Captain 
Fryatt  was  buried.  I  found  his  grave  without  diffi- 
culty, owing  to  the  forethought  of  the  Belgian  sexton, 


270  « INDISCRETIONS ' 

who,  guessing  the  interest  which  would  be  attached 
to  it  by  Englishmen  after  the  war,  had  taken  the 
precaution  of  marking  the  site  by  a  tiny  anchor  of 
growing  cactus  plants,  a  touching  tribute  to  the 
profession  of  the  dead  man. 

It  seemed  so  sad  that  no  hand  of  an  English  friend 
had  been  allowed  to  place  a  token  upon  his  last 
resting-place,  that  I  went  into  the  town  and  bought 
a  large  wreath  of  white  "immortelles,"  and  these  I 
laid  upon  the  grave. 

Subsequently,  I  went  to  the  convent  of  the  Sisters 
of  Providence,  who  in  peace  time  have  charge  of  the 
women's  side  of  the  prison  of  Bruges,  because  I  was 
told  that  the  Superior,  Sceur  Marie  Antoine — who, 
with  the  other  nuns,  probably  on  account  of  their 
usefulness,  had  been  left  by  the  Germans  undisturbed 
in  the  pursuit  of  their  work  of  mercy — had  details 
of  the  last  hours  of  Captain  Fryatt  which  she  was 
anxious  to  communicate  to  me. 

Half  the  convent  had  been  seized  by  the  Germans 
for  the  use  of  their  prisoners  of  war,  political  as  well 
as  military,  and  Sceur  Marie  Antoine  was  forbidden 
access  to  them,  although  she  could  not  be  prevented 
from  occasionally  seeing  them  in  that  part  of  the 
court-yard  which  was  necessarily  used  by  both  men 
and  women  approaching  or  leaving  the  prison.  It 
came  to  pass  thus  that  she  got  to  know  Fryatt  quite 
well  by  sight  and  used  to  watch  for  his  coming  out  to 
exercise  with  his  jailer. 

Sceur  Marie  Antoine,  who  throughout  the  German 
occupation  was  a  real  angel  of  mercy  to  such  of  our 
prisoners  as  she  could  get  into  touch  with,  tried  to 
ingratiate  herself  with  the  warders  in  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  approach  Fryatt,  or  at  least  to  be  allowed 


BELGIUM  271 

to  send  him  such  trifles  as  she  could  dispose  of  for  his 
comfort.  But  she  never  succeeded  in  speaking  to 
him,  although  she  found  out  that  the  number  of  his 
cell  was  seventy-two  in  the  wing  reserved  for  prisoners 
condemned  to  death  or  to  perpetual  imprisonment. 

I  saw  that  cell !  It  was  bare  of  furniture  save 
for  a  folding  bed,  a  rickety  tripod  washstand  in  which 
he  had  to  wash  up  his  cup  and  plate  after  meals, 
and  a  small  tin  slop-pail.  The  one  window  was  high 
up,  and  through  its  dingy  barred  pane  showed  a  foot 
or  two  of  sky.  In  the  door  was  a  small  trap,  out- 
side which  on  a  ledge  was  placed  the  scanty  food 
which  formed  the  prison  fare.  Fryatt  was  locked  in 
this  prison  for  twenty-four  hours  at  a  stretch,  being 
allowed  at  those  intervals  only  to  clean  his  cell. 

It  may  give  some  idea  of  the  indignities  and  suffer- 
ings imposed  on  Belgian  men  and  women  who  were 
at  times  imprisoned  here  by  order  of  Admiral  Schroeder, 
to  know  that  three  men,  or  three  women,  as  the 
case  might  be,  were  interned  together  in  cells  such 
as  this,  for  terms  of  imprisonment  sometimes  lasting 
weeks,  with  no  conveniences  for  the  ordinary  decencies 
of  life  beyond  those  described  in  Fryatt 's  cell,  and 
no  means  of  opening  the  window. 

But  to  return  to  poor  Captain  Fryatt.  There  was 
a  German  warder  in  the  prison  whom  I  shall  call 
Hans,  not  knowing  his  real  name,  who  had  been  a 
long  time  in  London  before  the  war  and  had  there 
assimilated  a  certain  amount  of  British  Kultur.  This 
taught  him  to  be  humane  in  the  treatment  of  a  fallen 
foe,  and  he  became  quite  confidential  with  Sceur 
Marie  Antoine  under  the  influence  of  a  glass  of  wine 
she  occasionally  reserved  for  him,  bringing  her  such 
news  as  he  could  collect  of  the  Entente  prisoners. 

s 


272  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Among  others  he  used  to  speak  of  Fryatt.  One 
day  he  came  to  her  in  great  excitement.  "  He  is 
to  be  tried,  ma  sceur.  To-day  he  will  be  taken  before 
the  military  court  martial,"  was  his  news.  It  proved 
correct,  for  later  she  saw  Fryatt  go  forth  to  his  trial 
and  presently  return.  He  was,  as  appears  from 
what  she  subsequently  heard,  taken  back  to  his 
cell  without  being  told  that  the  death  sentence  had 
been  passed  upon  him.  Half  an  hour  later,  two 
officers  came  to  fetch  him  away  for  his  execution. 

Soeur  Marie  Antoine  saw  him  pass  through  the 
prison  court-yard  to  the  entrance,  where  a  motor-car 
waited  for  the  party.  For  a  moment  Fryatt  stopped, 
and,  heedless  of  his  jailers,  raised  his  eyes  to  Heaven, 
evidently  in  prayer.  Then,  bracing  himself  as  though 
for  a  great  effort,  he  squared  his  shoulders,  and  with 
head  erect  walked  on  to  the  waiting  motor-car. 

The  two  officers  watched  him  and  then  burst  out 
laughing.  One  of  them  had  a  fox  terrier  with  him. 
Raising  his  stick  he  called  the  dog,  and  with  cries 
of  "  Hop !  Hop !  "  made  the  animal  jump  over  the 
stick. 

Fryatt,  pale  as  death,  got  into  the  car.  Hans 
told  Soeur  Marie  Antoine  that  he  never  faltered  from 
that  moment,  and  met  his  end  like  the  hero  that 
he  was. 

Soeur  Marie  Antoine  was  ill  in  bed  when  I  arrived  at 
the  prison,  but  she  received  me,  all  the  same,  in  one 
of  the  convict  cells  on  the  women's  side  of  the  prison, 
where  she  and  the  other  sisters  had  taken  up  their 
abode,  the  walls  being  thicker  and  thus  giving  greater 
protection  from  the  terrible  and  incessant  aerial 
bombardments  which  the  British  and  other  Allies 
inflicted  on  Bruges. 


7 


[D.  J.  CARDINAL  MERCIER,  ARCW.  DE  MALINES] 


BELGIUM  273 

While  I  sat  by  her  bedside,  she  was  waited  upon 
by  a  convict  woman  condemned  to  death  for  the 
murder  of  her  husband.  Her  face  was  concealed, 
all  but  the  eyes,  behind  a  mask  of  white  cotton. 
Gruesome,  indeed,  were  some  of  the  things  I  saw  and 
heard  in  Belgium  at  that  time. 

While  in  Bruges,  we  called  on  the  charming  old 
octogenarian,  Count  Visard  de  Bocarme,  who,  after 
being  dispossessed  of  his  functions  as  Burgomaster 
by  the  Germans  because  he  would  not  bend  to  their 
will,  had  resumed  them  immediately  upon  the  evacu- 
ation. When  we  asked  him  where  we  could  lodge, 
he  directed  us  to  the  Hotel  du  Commerce,  adding 
with  a  merry  twinkle  :  "  They  have  some  good  wine. 
They  saved  twenty  thousand  bottles  from  the  Boches  !  " 
Like  others,  I  made  the  acquaintance  at  this  hotel  of 
Baron  Segers,  Belgian  Minister  of  Marine,  Poste 
and  Telegraphs.  He  advised  me,  before  leaving 
Belgium,  to  pay  a  visit  to  Ypres.  What  he  told 
me  of  that  place  determined  me  to  follow  his  advice. 

We  drove  there  via  Ghistelles,  Schoore,  Pervyse  and 
Fumes. 

The  first  part  of  the  road  did  not  show  such  terrible 
signs  of  devastation  as  I  had  expected,  but  when 
we  came  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Schoor,  interest  in 
the  scene  became  terrific.  One's  first  impression 
was  of  the  intense  loneliness  of  the  country.  Only 
military  vehicles  passed  up  and  down  the  road — 
great  motor  lorries  laden  with  the  paraphernalia  of 
war  or  with  soldiers  on  their  way  to  or  from  the  front. 
On  both  sides  of  the  road  enormous  screens  of  barbed 
wire  had  been  erected  in  the  hedges,  hung  with  frag- 
ments of  grey  material.  These  screens  served  to 
disguise  the  movements  of  troops  and  vehicles  along 


274  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

the  road.  All  the  farm  dwellings  lay  in  ruins,  their 
little  gardens  devastated  by  shot  and  shell.  Trenches 
scarred  the  face  of  the  open  country  with  hurdles  in 
front  of  them  laced  with  brushwood  to  form  portable 
screens  for  local  defence  or  for  concealment  of  guns. 
The  nearer  we  got  to  the  Yser  the  greater  became 
the  ruin.  We  passed  the  village  of  St.  Pierre  Cappelle 
— a  shell  shot  right  through  the  spire  of  its  church 
showed  the  blue  sky  beyond  it.  The  tombstones 
round  it  lay  in  fragments.  All  the  houses  of  what 
had  once  been  a  prosperous  country  village  were  here 
reduced  to  heaps  of  stone  and  rubble.  Passing  on, 
we  came  to  the  line  of  inundations  which  formed 
the  Belgian  defence.  No  more  gruesome  spectacle 
can  be  imagined  than  this  vast  stretch  of  country 
partially  submerged.  There  are  no  words  to  describe 
the  ghastly  desolation  of  it.  There  was  literally 
not  one  tree  that  had  not  been  stripped  of  its  bark 
by  shell  fire,  its  few  remaining  branches  stretching 
their  bare  black  limbs  to  heaven  in  mute  protest  against 
man's  brutality.  Out  of  the  cold  wicked-looking 
swamp  stuck  up  fragments  of  buildings,  the  tag- 
end  of  a  bridge,  the  twisted  wreckage  of  an  aeroplane. 
Truly  may  the  valley  of  the  Yser  between  Schoor 
and  Pervyse  be  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  and  ample  must  have  been  the  harvest  of 
death  in  those  once  fruitful  fields  of  Flanders.  The 
Yser,  on  whose  banks  the  tide  of  battle  surged  back 
and  forth  as  success  crowned  Belgian  or  German 
arms,  is  an  unimportant  narrow  stream,  spanned  by 
rickety  country  bridges,  wide  enough  for  the  passage 
of  one  vehicle  only  at  a  time.  The  trenches,  both 
Belgian  and  German,  were  divided  by  its  narrow 
waters,  and  in  both  cases  came  down  to  its  very 


BELGIUM  275 

banks.  One  German  dug-out  was  not  ten  yards 
from  the  river's  edge.  It  was  built  of  stout  concrete 
and  good  wooden  boards,  and  seemed  designed  for 
permanency.  On  its  outer  wall  it  bore  the  words  : 
"  Zu  den  blutigen  Knocken  "  (To  the  Bloody  Bones) 
with  a  hand  pointing  in  the  direction  of  Furnes. 
This  was  probably  the  name  they  had  given  to  some 
"  beer-shop  "  in  the  little  town  of  Furnes,  which 
was  once  a  gem  of  Flemish  architecture.  We  stopped 
in  the  place  and  almost  shed  tears  at  the  ruin  of  its 
lovely  monuments,  but  although  scarred  by  shell, 
they  preserve  their  beauty,  and  still  bear  witness  to 
their  former  glory. 

From  Furnes  the  road  turned  south  to  Ypres, 
and  the  nearer  we  drew  to  that  famous  spot,  now 
a  monument  to  British  valour  and  British  tenacity, 
the  more  complete  became  the  ruin  ;  for  no  inch 
of  this  ground  had  been  spared  by  friend  or  foe  in 
the  fight  for  mastery  of  an  outpost  which  had  become 
symbolic  of  England's  strength.  As  we  neared  Ypres 
the  nomenclature  of  the  various  depots,  barracks 
and  dug-outs  changed  from  French  to  English,  and 
I  noticed  among  others  "  Beckworth  Camp,"  "  Daw- 
son's  Corner,"  "Whitehouse Billet,"  "Magenta Farm," 
"  Cheapside  "  "  Cactus  Pontoon,"  "  Pink  Chateau  " 
and  "  Vanity  Camp,"  some  of  which  may  recall 
memories  to  those  who  have  had  personal  experience 
of  their  charms  !  At  the  bridge  leading  into  Ypres 
we  were  stopped  by  an  English  sentry,  who  refused 
us  passage,  as  we  had  only  a  Belgian  laissez-passer. 
We  persuaded  him  to  take  us  to  the  British  officer 
in  charge  of  the  post,  from  whom  we  received  a  special 
pass  available  for  one  day  only — namely,  October 
24,  1918.  This  officer  was  most  kind  in  allowing 


276  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

us  to  visit  a  spot  we  had  come  so  far  to  see,  but  he 
put  us  on  our  honour  not  to  go  beyond  the  outskirts 
of  the  ruins,  as  the  battle  was  in  progress  not  so  very 
far  away. 

Ypres  will  require  a  poet  of  its  own  to  sing  its 
vanished  glory.  I  can  only  liken  it  to  a  man  whose 
features  have  been  obliterated  by  fire,  but  whose 
soul  is  still  alive  behind  his  sightless  eyes.  The 
soul  of  Ypres  lives,  but  its  beauty  has  been  destroyed. 
There  is  not  a  monument,  a  house,  a  street  or  a  square 
of  the  old  town  left  in  its  former  state — not  a  tree, 
not  a  gravestone  standing.  There  can  be  no  question 
of  rebuilding  the  town.  There  is  no  town  to  rebuild. 
A  new  one  must  arise  on  the  old  site.  If  one  leaves 
the  tracks  which,  presumably,  used  to  be  busy  streets, 
one  has  to  scramble  over  heaps  of  brick  and  stone, 
so  complete  is  the  ruin  of  one  of  Belgium's  fairest 
cities.  Our  motor  stuck  in  a  shell-hole  in  front  of 
what  was  a  fine  chateau,  of  which  nothing  now  remains 
but  two  beautiful  iron  gates  hanging  on  their  shattered 
pillars.  Standing  among  the  ruins  of  Ypres,  we 
looked  away  over  the  famous  battlefields  watered 
by  so  much  precious  English  blood.  We  stood  at 
"  Hell-fire  Corner,"  and  stepped  along  the  duck- 
boards  of  disused  British  trenches.  We  went  into 
abandoned  dug-outs,  and  saw  fragments  of  what 
had  once  been  an  army  telegraph  base.  We  saw 
Sanctuary  Wood,  Mount  Kemmel,  Whytschaete  and 
Messines,  beyond  which  the  fighting  still  progressed, 
and  Passchendaele  of  glorious  memory.  Those 
moments  spent  at  Ypres  were  precious  moments 
— moments  of  emotion  almost  too  sacred  to  be 
analysed  on  paper. 

I  returned  to  Ypres  quite  lately  and  stood  again 


BELGIUM  277 

under  one  of  the  ruined  arches  of  the  Cloth  Hall, 
looking  out  over  the  town.  A  few  carved  fragments 
of  this  once  beautiful  pile  of  architecture  had  been 
brought  together  to  form  a  rude  monument  to  our 
glorious  dead.  Some  one  had  dragged  the  defaced 
and  broken  remains  of  two  stone  lions,  British  lions, 
and  placed  them  as  sentinels  on  either  side.  Several 
wreaths  hung  upon  the  walls.  One  bore  the  inscrip- 
tion : — 

To 

The  Vanguard 
Ypres  1914. 

Oh,  little  mighty  Force  that  stood  for  England, 
Stood  fast  while  England  girt  her  armour  on, 
Held  high  our  honour  in  your  wounded  hands, 
Carried  our  honour  safe  with  bleeding  feet, 
We  have  no  glory  great  enough  for  you  ! 

Another,    from    the    Ypres    League,   carried    the 
inscription : 

In  Honoured  Memory 

of 

Those  who  died, 
1914    In  the  defence  of  Ypres  1918 

On  this  day,  nth  Nov.  1914, 

The  supreme  effort  of  the 

Prussian  Guards  was  shattered 

By  the  exhausted  British,  and  the 

Road  to  the  Channel  Ports  barred. 

A  simple  notice  was   nailed   to   the  wall   of  the 
arch : 

This  is  Holy  Ground. 

No  stone  of  this  Fabric  may  be  taken  away. 
It  is  a  heritage  for  all  Civilized  Peoples. 

By  order, 

TOWN  MAYOR,  Ypres, 


278  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

From  Ypres  we  returned  by  the  same  road  to 
Bruges,  and  on  the  following  day  were  fortunate  enough 
to  witness  the  victorious  re-entry  of  the  King  of  the 
Belgians,  with  his  Consort  and  son,  into  the  old  Flemish 
Capital  of  Belgium.  This  took  place  on  October  25, 
and  as  we  were  given  most  excellent  seats  on  the 
balcony  of  the  "  Gouvernement  Provincial  "  looking 
out  on  the  ancient  square,  we  had  a  wonderful  view 
of  this  touching  ceremony.  At  an  early  hour  of 
the  morning  the  city  was  agog  with  excitement. 
Probably  more  flags  were  displayed  than  ever  before, 
amongst  them  figuring  those  of  the  Allies.  At  nine 
o'clock  vast  crowds  had  assembled  in  the  square 
and  the  streets  leading  to  it.  Every  window  was 
filled  with  sightseers.  At  ten  the  Burgomaster  and 
Aldermen  took  up  their  position  on  the  steps  of  the 
"  Gouvernement  Provincial."  The  ancient  Cathe- 
dral's "  Bell  of  Triumph  "  rang  out  its  greeting  to 
the  returning  King.  After  the  Belgian  National 
Anthem,  the  wonderful  bells  of  Bruges  chimed  out 
"  God  Save  the  King  "  and  the  "  Marseillaise,"  in 
honour  of  Belgium's  faithful  Allies !  Aeroplanes 
circled  overhead  and  were  greeted  with  loud  cheers. 
Amongst  the  decorations  of  the  square  was  a  double 
line  of  British  Naval  signal  flags,  floating  from  the 
tower  of  the  old  belfry.  These  flags  had  been  cap- 
tured by  German  U-boat  commanders  from  British 
merchant  ships,  and  had  been  stored  by  them,  doubt- 
less to  be  brought  forth  in  Berlin  to  add  to  German 
triumph  on  some  future  occasion  !  I  thought  it  a 
touching  if  mute  tribute  to  Belgium's  feeling  for 
England  that  those  flags  left  behind  in  the  hurry 
of  the  Huns'  departure  should  figure  so  conspicuously 
on  this  great  day.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  royal 


MEUAL  STRUCK  IN   BRUSSELS  AFTER    THE  ARMISTICE 

To  commemorate  the  brilliant  services  lendered  to  Belgium  during  the 
War  in  the  capacity  of  'Neutral'  ministeis,  by  the  Marquis  de  Villa- 
lobar  and  Mr.  Whitlock,  icpresenting  Spain  and  the  United  States 


BELGIUM  279 

cavalcade  entered  the  square,  preceded  by  mounted 
gendarmes  and  a  military  band.  When  the  King, 
Queen  and  Prince  on  horseback  rode  into  the  square, 
hats  and  handkerchiefs  waved  wildly  and  loyal  cheers 
rent  the  air.  The  King,  riding  between  the  Queen 
and  the  Prince,  took  up  his  position  in  the  centre  of 
the  square  alongside  the  old  monument  dedicated  to 
Breydel  and  de  Coninck.  A  ray  of  sunlight  fell  upon 
the  inscription  of  this  monument  representing  the 
return  of  the  victorious  Brugeois.  It  was  curiously 
appropriate  to  the  occasion  :  "  Terugkomst  der  zege- 
pralende  Bruggelinge  !  "  The  King  and  Prince  were 
in  khaki,  like  the  troops.  The  Queen  wore  a  simple 
habit  of  the  same  colour,  with  a  becoming  white 
riding  hat,  which  only  partially  concealed  her  lovely 
golden  hair.  The  review  of  the  troops  was  very 
simple.  I  believe  they  were  actually  on  their  way 
to  the  front.  After  it  was  over,  the  royal  party 
dismounted  and  were  received  on  the  steps  of  the 
"  Gouvernement  Provincial  "  by  the  Burgomaster  and 
large  crowds  of  officials.  They  entered  the  vestibule 
of  the  beautiful  old  building,  where  an  official  recep- 
tion took  place.  It  is  significant  that  all  the  speeches 
were  made  in  Flemish,  the  King  replying  in  that 
language  to  the  Address  of  Welcome  presented  to 
himself  and  the  Queen ;  but  when  the  royal  party 
took  their  leave,  it  was  to  the  sound  of  the  old  French 
cheer  "  Vive  le  Roi !  "  that  they  passed  through 
the  lines  of  their  loyal  subjects. 

Towards  dusk  that  night  we  crossed  the  Belgian 
frontier  on  our  return  to  Holland. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
HOLLAND 

The  end  of  the  war — How  the  fugitive  ex-Kaiser  came  to  Maarn, 
and  how  by  chance  I  saw  him  arrive — The  story  of  the  little 
Dutch  soldier  who  would  not  let  him  cross  the  frontier — The 
outcast  Emperor — Where  the  Germans  had  been — Rejoicing 
in  Antwerp  and  Brussels — The  Belgian  King  has  his  own  again 
— Tales  of  the  German  Revolution — Threats  of  revolution  in 
Holland — Queen  Wilhelmina's  courage — That  tired  feeling. 

ON  November  n,  1918,  the  Armistice  was  signed. 
The  end  of  the  war  came  in  sight. 

It  came  so  suddenly  at  the  end  that  one's  breath 
was  almost  taken  away.  It  seemed  incredible  that 
we  were  to  have  peace  after  those  four  years  of  war, 
silence  in  place  of  that  eternal  rumble  of  artillery  so 
plainly  heard  at  The  Hague.  And  yet  we  had  no 
right  to  be  taken  by  surprise,  for  indications  had  not 
been  wanting  of  late  showing  the  direction  events 
were  taking.  Walter  had  prepared  the  Foreign  Office 
two  months  before  for  what  now  actually  happened. 

The  internal  conditions  of  Germany  we  knew  to 
be  such  that  she  could  not  continue  to  fight.  Revolu- 
tion, that  gaunt  after-war  spectre,  was  threatening 
the  war-makers.  Only  an  immediate  peace  could 
save  Central  Europe  from  being  overwhelmed  by  a 
wave  of  "  Bolshevism."  Germany  had  awakened 
perhaps  too  late  to  the  fact  that  anarchy  in  its  most 
virulent  form  waited  at  her  gates.  The  people  were 

280 


HOLLAND  281 

prepared  to  get  rid  of  the  man  who  had  brought 
so  much  misery  upon  them.  It  had  been  stated, 
but  it  seemed  hard  to  believe,  that  the  aristocratic 
Max  of  Baden  would  be  their  mouthpiece,  the  instru- 
ment selected  by  Providence  to  sweep  away  the  old 
regime  and  replace  it  by  a  democratic  Government. 
And  that  was  what  actually  happened.  The  new 
Chancellor  put  on  the  armour  of  democracy,  and 
headed  the  popular  demand  for  the  abdication  of 
the  Kaiser. 

Personally,  I  was  sorry  that  the  Germans  should 
throw  up  their  hands  and  cry  "  Kamerad  "  before 
we  had  given  them  the  coup  de  grace.  I  suppose 
they  hoped  thereby  to  save  themselves  not  only 
the  horrors  of  internal  revolution  but  also  the  suffer- 
ing and  humiliation  of  "invasion,"  of  which  they 
knew  something. 

I  had  thought  of  an  excellent  way  of  stamping  the 
hall-mark  of  defeat  upon  them.  Before  consenting 
to  sit  at  the  Conference  table  with  them  I  should 
have  made  them  cut  down  every  tree  within  a  radius 
of  twenty-five  miles  round  Berlin,  starting  from  the 
Emperor's  Palace  as  a  central  point.  Not  one  tree 
would  I  have  left  standing.  It  would  have  had  the 
same  effect  upon  their  pride  as  shaving  the  head 
of  a  convict.  It  would  have  been  a  fitting  reprisal 
for  the  felled  orchards  of  France,  and  although  it 
would  have  left  our  mark  upon  the  beast  for  at  least 
twenty-five  years  no  one  could  have  called  it  cruel. 

On  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  November  10,  the 
Kaiser  surrendered  and  crossed  into  Holland  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  had  just  come  back 
from  Church  when  news  of  this  stupendous  event 
reached  the  Legation.  Fancy  the  proud  Kaiser  sur- 


282  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

rendering  to  the  Dutch !  It  was  the  last  thing  one 
expected  him  to  do,  and  the  worst  I  suppose  he  could 
have  done  for  the  future  of  the  monarchical  cause 
in  his  country.  Our  anxiety  for  definite  news  as 
to  what  really  had  happened  can  be  imagined.  Tele- 
grams and  telephone  messages  kept  the  wires  hot 
between  the  Dutch  P.O.  and  the  Legation,  until 
Walter  ascertained  from  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs  himself  that  the  Emperor  actually  had  come 
over  the  Frontier  at  an  early  hour  that  morning,  but 
that  the  place  of  his  reception  and  internment  was  still 
under  discussion.  We  all  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  Middachten,  the  country  seat  of  Count  William 
Bentinck,  a  friend  with  whom  he  had  stayed  in  former 
days,  would  be  the  place  selected.  It  was  a  lovely 
day  and  a  most  tempting  one  for  a  drive,  so  I  volun- 
teered to  go  in  my  two-seater  to  the  village  of  that 
name,  which  is  about  seventy  miles  from  The  Hague, 
to  see  if  I  could  learn  there  anything  definite  of  the 
royal  fugitive.  But  I  was  unsuccessful,  and  no  sign 
was  visible  of  the  Emperor's  presence  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood. Rather  depressed,  I  turned  my  face  home- 
wards, and  would  have  got  back  to  The  Hague  in  time 
for  a  late  dinner  had  not  "  Gladys  "  developed  engine 
trouble,  which  made  it  imperative  for  me  to  put 
up  for  the  night  at  a  wayside  inn,  whence  my  chauffeur 
went  forth  to  seek  assistance  at  the  nearest  garage. 
The  damage  having  been  repaired,  I  set  off  again  at 
cock-crow  the  next  morning,  and  continued  my  way 
home,  stopping  for  breakfast  at  a  small  country  hotel, 
where  I  got  into  telephonic  communication  with 
Walter,  who  told  me  that  the  Kaiser  was  not  going 
to  Middachten  after  all.  When  I  came  to  Doom, 
the  very  place  where  the  Kaiser  is  now  living,  I  pulled 


HOLLAND  283 

up  to  take  a  rest  and  have  a  look  at  the  village,  which 
is  extremely  picturesque.  On  passing  the  post  office 
I  was  amazed  and  greatly  excited  to  see  a  large  placard 
posted  in  the  window  announcing  that  the  Kaiser 
would  arrive  that  very  day  at  a  station  called  Maarn, 
not  a  mile  from  the  place  where  I  stood,  and  would 
be  received  there  by  Count  Godard  Bentinck,  whose 
Castle  of  Amerongen  had  been  selected  as  his  place 
of  detention.  Instantly  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
by  hook  or  by  crook  I  must  be  an  eye-witness  of 
so  extraordinarily  interesting  an  historical  event. 
I  imagined  I  could  lose  myself  in  the  crowd  that 
would  gather  to  see  his  train  come  in  and  thus  pass 
unnoticed.  But  when  I  came  to  Maarn  I  found  it 
was  a  lonely  little  country  station,  and  that  no  one 
was  present  to  see  the  arrival  beyond  a  handful  of 
Dutch  officials,  the  ubiquitous  reporters  of  various 
journals  and  a  few  yokels  attracted  by  curiosity. 
Amongst  the  Dutch  officials  was  my  old  friend,  General 
Onnen,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  interned  British 
prisoners  of  war  at  The  Hague,  and  who  had  always 
been  most  kind  and  obliging  to  me  in  matters  relating 
to  them.  When  he  saw  me  now,  he  came  quickly 
forward  with  extended  hand,  and,  after  a  warm  greet- 
ing, congratulated  me  on  having  chanced  to  be  in 
the  neighbourhood  on  such  an  historic  occasion.  He 
told  me  to  stand  at  a  particular  spot,  where  I  should 
have  an  excellent  view  of  the  arrival.  He  also  told 
me  that  after  all  was  over  I  should  wait  in  my  car 
till  he  could  find  a  moment  to  send  me  out,  on  a  slip 
of  paper,  the  names  of  all  those  who  had  accom- 
panied the  Emperor  in  his  flight,  together  with  any 
other  important  detail  which  he  thought  might  interest 
Walter  officially.  Of  course  I  was  delighted,  and  went 


284  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

to  take  up  my  stand  at  the  spot  he  had  indicated. 
But  as  bad  luck  would  have  it  I  was  recognized  by 
the  reporter  of  one  of  the  Dutch  newspapers,  who  came 
up  and  asked  me  if  I  was  not  the  wife  of  the  British 
Minister.  I  was  wearing  a  thick  veil  at  the  time,  and 
had  only  raised  it  for  a  moment  to  blow  my  nose 
when  this  horrid  fellow  chanced  to  see  my  features ! 
Of  course  I  could  not  deny  the  soft  impeachment, 
but  the  fact,  I  said,  was  not  for  publication  !  "  Well, 
I  won't  publish  it,"  he  said,  "  but  one  of  those  is  sure 
to  make  capital  out  of  your  presence  here  on  such 
an  occasion."  I  looked  at  the  group  of  reporters 
he  pointed  at,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that  not  a 
single  English  paper  was  represented.  But  as  the 
Kaiser's  train  was  signalled  at  that  moment  I  turned 
my  attention  to  more  interesting  details.  It  was  a 
pouring  wet  day,  and  everybody  seemed  in  a  very 
bad  temper.  The  approach  to  the  station  from  the 
direction  of  Amerongen  was  by  a  long  and  very  narrow 
lane,  which  was  completely  blocked  by  the  vehicles 
of  the  onlookers.  I  wondered  how  room  could  possibly 
be  made  for  the  Emperor's  car  to  drive  away,  as 
there  appeared  to  be  no  other  exit.  The  whole  recep- 
tion was  extremely  badly  stage-managed.  But  this 
fact  gave  me  the  five  minutes'  opportunity  I  had  of 
seeing  the  Kaiser  at  very  close  quarters ;  his  car, 
as  I  had  anticipated,  was  unable  to  leave  until  many 
others  had  been  shifted,  and  he  was  forced  to  wait, 
seated  beside  Count  Godard,  exposed  to  the  curious 
stare  of  all  present,  at  what  I  suppose  must  have 
been  the  most  unpleasant  moment  of  his  life.  He 
looked  very  white,  white-haired  and  white-faced, 
when  he  stepped  out  of  the  train  and  walked  past 
me  to  the  motor-car,  talking  to  Count  Godard.  But 


HOLLAND  285 

his  gait  was  firm,  and  his  nonchalance,  whether  natural 
or  assumed,  perfect.  He  was  crane,  as  the  French 
would  say !  Count  Godard,  or  more  probably  the 
Governor  of  the  Province,  who  was  a  noted  pro- 
Boche,  had  tried  to  organize  a  welcoming  demonstra- 
tion by  planting  a  few  boys  in  the  branches  of  the 
surrounding  trees  with  orders  to  cheer  the  fallen 
monarch.  He  automatically  lifted  his  hand  to  respond 
to  this  welcome,  but  it  fell  back,  the  gesture  unfinished, 
as  a  low,  prolonged  booing  drowned  the  faint  cheer. 
When  I  got  back  to  the  Legation  I  found  that  Walter 
had  gone  to  an  Armistice  dinner.  But  mindful  of 
the  fact  that  no  British  reporter  had  been  witness 
of  the  great  drama  enacted  that  day,  I  sent  for  the 
representatives  of  The  Times  and  Daily  Mail,  both 
friends  of  mine,  and  gave  them  a  detailed  account 
of  all  that  had  happened,  which  was  probably  the 
account  read  in  London  on  the  morning  after.  Such 
was  the  insignificant  exit  from  the  stage  of  history 
of  the  most  ambitious  monarch  who  ever  figured  on 
it! 

On  November  16,  1918,  I  was  again  in  Belgium, 
and  I  heard  the  details  of  that  unheroic  hour  when, 
a  fugitive  from  his  own  army,  the  one-time  "  Knight 
in  shining  armour  "  stood  at  the  frontier  barrier  of 
Holland  and  begged  of  a  little  Dutch  soldier  for 
sanctuary  within  its  borders  ! 

The  story  was  told  me  by  the  little  Dutch  soldier 
himself,  only  a  few  days  after  the  event,  as  we  stood 
together  by  the  frontier-gate  at  Eysden,  near  Maas- 
tricht, through  which  the  Emperor  passed. 

He  was  on  duty,  that  day  of  the  great  event,  at  half- 
past  six  in  the  morning,  when  a  motor-car  drove  up 


286  r  INDISCRETIONS ' 

rapidly  from  the  Belgian  side  and  stopped  at  the  gate. 
A  German  officer  alighted,  and  addressing  the  soldier, 
demanded  passage  for  the  car. 

"That  is  impossible,"  said  the  soldier. 

"But  I  demand  that  we  shall  pass/'  insisted  the 
officer.  "The  German  Emperor  himself  is  here,  and 
he  must  be  allowed  to  continue  his  journey  into 
Holland." 

The  soldier  disbelieved  the  improbable  story  that 
the  German  Emperor  wished  to  enter  Holland,  and 
said  so,  at  the  same  time  repeating  that  he  had  no 
permission  to  allow  any  German  officer  to  pass  through 
the  gates.  While  the  two  were  arguing,  a  second 
German  officer  descended  from  the  car  and  came  up. 

"  I  wish  to  pass  at  once,"  he  said.  "  You  surely 
recognize  me.  I  am  the  German  Emperor."  And 
as  he  spoke  he  faced  the  soldier,  drawing  himself 
up  haughtily. 

It  was  indeed  the  Kaiser,  but  the  astounded  soldier 
stuck  to  his  point,  intent  only  on  the  fulfilment  of 
his  duty. 

"  I  see  you  are  the  Kaiser,"  he  replied,  "  but  my 
orders  are  to  allow  none  to  pass !  " 

"  Who  gave  you  those  orders  ?  " 

"  My  captain." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  the  guard-room,  over  there,"  pointing  to  a 
white  cottage  a  little  way  down  the  lane.  "He  is 
asleep  at  this  hour." 

"  Call  him  instantly.  Say  that  the  German  Emperor 
is  here  and  must  pass  through  the  barrier." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  call  him.  .  .  .  But  first  I 
must  lock  the  gates,"  said  the  sturdy  Dutchman. 

The  locks  were  secured,  the  captain  was  awakened, 


HOLLAND  287 

and  in  a  few  moments  he  arrived  to  interview  the 
furious  Emperor,  who  still  waited  on  the  Belgian 
side  of  the  frontier-gates.  He  repeated  what  the 
soldier  had  said,  namely,  that  he  could  not  allow 
the  Kaiser  to  enter  Dutch  territory  without  orders. 
But  he  added  he  would  at  once  telegraph  to  The 
Hague  for  instructions. 

"That  will  take  some  time,"  said  the  Kaiser. 
"  I  cannot  stand  here  in  the  road.  Take  me  to  some 
place  where  I  can  wait." 

Puzzled  as  to  what  to  do  under  such  very  unlooked- 
for  circumstances,  the  captain  thought  a  moment 
and  then  told  the  Kaiser  that  if  he  would  give  his 
word  to  re-cross  the  frontier  instantly  should  he 
be  requested  to  do  so,  he  would  ask  the  station-master 
to  let  him  wait  on  the  platform  of  the  little  station 
on  the  Dutch  side  of  the  barrier. 

The  Kaiser  gave  the  required  assurance,  and 
advanced  to  the  gate,  expecting  to  be  admitted  instantly 
to  the  haven  of  Dutch  territory.  Still  the  gate  stood 
unopened  and  remained  so  while  the  captain  of  the 
guard  went  to  interview  the  station-master  and  ask 
whether  he  would  undertake  the  responsibility  of 
the  Kaiser's  presence  on  his  station.  The  two  came 
back  together,  the  gates  were  opened,  and  the  royal 
refugee  entered  Holland.  Walking  between  the  cap- 
tarn  and  the  station-master,  he  made  his  way  to 
the  platform  of  the  little  station. 

Here  for  almost  six  hours  he  waited  while  the 
captain  telegraphed  to  The  Hague  the  startling  news 
that  the  Kaiser  wished  to  surrender  to  the  Dutch 
and  to  seek  in  Holland  an  asylum  from  his  people. 
Meanwhile,  the  report  of  the  Kaiser's  arrival  had 
spread. 


288  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

The  little  station  of  Eysden  lies  actually  across  the 
frontier  line,  the  platform  being  in  Holland,  while 
the  back  of  the  station  is  in  Belgium.  A  few  yards 
away  from  the  Belgian  frontier  stands  a  large  factory 
from  which  the  workers  came  running.  They  crowded 
round  the  frontier  barrier,  staring,  pointing,  hooting 
and  jeering  at  the  figure  pacing  up  and  down  the 
platform  a  few  yards  away. 

Resentful  of  this  unexpected  humiliation,  the 
Kaiser  signified  to  the  station-master  his  wish  to 
retire  into  his  office.  But  the  anti-German  station- 
master  pointed  to  the  notice  on  the  door,  "  Eingang  ist 
verboten,"  and,  on  the  strength  of  it,  kept  the  Kaiser 
walking  up  and  down  the  platform. 

At  The  Hague  the  arrival  of  the  telegram  telling 
of  the  Kaiser's  surrender  caused  great  excitement. 
The  Prime  Minister  was  roused  from  his  bed,  and 
hurried  off  with  the  Foreign  Minister,  Jonkheer  Dr. 
van  Karnebeck,  to  a  hasty  conference  with  the  Queen. 
The  end  of  their  deliberations  was  the  decision  that 
the  Kaiser's  surrender  should  be  accepted  on  condi- 
tion that  he  should  remain  at  the  frontier  until  a 
suitable  place  of  residence  could  be  found  for  him. 
After  a  first  refusal,  Count  Godard  Bentinck  was 
with  difficulty  induced  to  give  him  asylum  at 
Amerongen. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  frontier,  the  Kaiser  still  waited 
on  the  open  platform  of  the  little  station  at  Eysden, 
his  anger  steadily  rising  at  the  delay  to  which  he  was 
subjected. 

Some  one  on  the  station  offered  him  a  cigarette, 
a  gift  which  he  accepted.  But  the  act  was  inter- 
preted by  the  Belgian  onlookers  as  pro-Boche,  and 
became  the  signal  for  a  further  outburst  of  cat-calls 


WALTER 

From  the  painting  by  Van  Weile,  1919 


HOLLAND  289 

and  booings.  At  last  orders  came  to  close  the  station 
and  clear  it  of  all  but  Dutch  officials  and  the  Kaiser's 
suite. 

The  Emperor  had  meant  to  arrive  at  the  frontier 
barrier  by  road  at  the  same  time  as  his  special  train 
reached  it  from  Spa.  He  intended  to  continue  in 
it  his  journey  to  The  Hague.  But  the  train  was  for 
some  reason  delayed,  and  arrived  at  Eysden  six  hours 
late — six  hours  which  the  Emperor  was  compelled 
to  pass  on  the  platform  exposed  to  the  jeers  of  his 
enemies. 

The  latter  part  of  his  enforced  wait  at  Eysden 
he  at  least  was  able  to  spend  in  the  privacy  of  his 
saloon  carriage.  One  can  imagine  the  nature  of  his 
reflections  that  night,  for  it  was  not  till  the  next 
day  that  he  was  permitted  to  proceed  to  his  destina- 
tion. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  second  visit  to  Belgium,  I 
was  accompanied  by  Lady  Malcolm  and  two  British 
officers,  one  of  whom,  Mr.  C.  Morell,  undertook  to 
drive  the  motor ;  the  other,  Rupert  Mitford,  acting 
as  orderly.  We  were  in  high  spirits,  for  the  war  was 
over,  the  Armistice  having  been  signed  a  few  days 
before.  We  were  the  first  British  to  enter  Antwerp 
after  the  Germans  had  left  it  at  six  o'clock  that  very 
morning.  With  luck,  we  might  have  found  them 
still  there,  for  they  departed  four  days  before  their 
scheduled  time,  the  attitude  of  the  German  sailors 
in  the  port  having  scared  them  away.  Those  sailors 
paraded  the  streets  wearing  the  red  cockade  and 
shooting  all  officers  at  sight. 

We  had  left  the  Legation  in  the  morning  at  9.45, 
Walter  waving  us  a  cheery  good-bye  from  the  door- 


2QO  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

step:  it  was  bad  luck  that  his  official  duties  pre- 
vented his  coming  with  us.  Driving  through  Delft 
to  Rotterdam,  we  crossed  the  frontier  at  Putte.  As 
we  neared  Antwerp  we  became  aware  of  tremendous 
excitement  in  the  town,  which  we  presently  found 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  at  last,  after  four  years  of 
occupation,  the  hated  Hun  had  departed.  The  last 
of  them  had  marched  out  at  two  o'clock.  The  popula- 
tion was  delirious  with  joy.  Every  man,  woman 
and  child  was  in  the  streets,  which  were  gaily  decor- 
ated with  thousands  of  flags  and  brilliantly  lighted 
with  innumerable  lanterns.  I  never  could  under- 
stand where  the  Belgians  hid  all  the  flags  and  lanterns 
which  invariably  made  their  appearance  before  the 
dust  was  laid  behind  the  departing  enemy. 

At  the  sight  of  our  waving  Union  Jack  and  of  our 
two  friends  in  uniform,  the  crowds  in  the  streets  com- 
pletely lost  their  heads.  They  swarmed  over  the 
car  like  flies,  kissing  the  men  and  so  hampering  our 
progress  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  we 
reached  our  hotel.  Having  deposited  our  luggage, 
we  marched  out  again  to  share  in  a  regular  mafficking 
demonstration  of  which  we  became  the  popular  centre. 
Vive  les  Anglais  !  Vive  les  Allies  !  Again  the  young 
men  were  surrounded  and  literally  smothered  with 
caresses  by  irrepressible  female  admirers,  who  hung 
in  clusters  round  their  necks.  Jeanne  (Lady  Malcolm) 
and  I  clung  to  their  belts,  afraid  of  being  separated 
from  them  in  the  crowd.  No  one  noticed  us ;  it  was 
the  British  uniforms  that  appealed  to  them.  All 
night  we  wandered  about  sharing  the  madness  of 
a  people  out  of  their  senses  with  joy. 

Next  morning  we  got  off  early,  for  we  meant  to 
sleep  in  Ghent.  As  we  left  the  town,  we  encountered 


HOLLAND  291 

a  mounted  regiment  returning  from  the  Front.  They 
were  playing  the  Belgian  National  Air,  the  Braban- 
conne,  but  at  sight  of  the  British  uniform  they  changed 
their  tune  to  "It's  a  long,  long  way  to  Tipperary," 
and  again  a  demonstration  was  made  in  our  favour 
by  the  populace  that  crowded  the  streets  and  the 
beflagged  windows  and  balconies.  Never  again  shall 
I  feel  so  like  a  queen  in  a  pageant  as  I  did  that  day  ! 
How  happy  we  all  were ! 

We  got  into  Ghent  about  seven  o'clock  that  night, 
and  heard  that  the  Germans  were  still  in  Brussels. 
We  had  followed  the  road  through  St.  Nicholas  and 
met  a  continuous  stream  of  army  wagons  and  motor- 
lorries,  all  part  of  the  Division  which  entered  Antwerp 
when  the  Germans  retired. 

Many  were  the  tales  we  heard  at  Ghent.  The 
Huns  had  behaved  pretty  well,  apparently,  till  the  day 
they  left.  But  they  signalized  their  departure  by 
firing  then:  revolvers  through  the  windows  of  ground 
floor  rooms  and  destroying  statues  of  King  Albert. 
Before  going,  they  sold  everything  they  could  persuade 
the  Belgians  to  buy.  Rifles  were  offered  at  fifty 
centimes  each,  and  in  one  case  a  gun  and  six  horses 
were  sold  for  sixty-five  francs. 

We  had  been  the  first  foreigners  to  enter  Ghent 
after  the  German  evacuation,  but  before  we  left 
many  Americans  had  drifted  in  and  we  could  not 
help  wondering  where  they  had  come  from  and  why 
they  were  there. 

On  the  road  to  Brussels,  we  found  Madame  Rentyens 
stranded  in  a  little  wayside  inn.  She  had  intended 
to  visit  her  husband,  who  was  quartered  there  with 
his  regiment,  but  before  she  arrived  his  marching 
orders  had  come,  and  so  she  found  herself  stranded 


292  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

with  no  means  of  getting  back  to  Brussels,  for  as  she 
told  us,  the  Germans  had  thoughtfully  celebrated  their 
departure  from  the  capital  on  the  previous  day  by 
blowing  up  the  three  principal  stations  with  time 
fuses  calculated  to  explode  after  their  departure. 
The  explosion  in  the  Gare  du  Nord  had  had  parti- 
cularly disastrous  results  to  life  and  goods,  as  it  had 
taken  place  under  an  ammunition  train.  We  visited 
the  scene  the  next  day,  and  picked  up  lots  of  curios 
and  bits  of  loot  from  amongst  the  debris  !  One  of 
the  curios  which  I  did  not  pick  up  was  a  very  smart 
coffin  almost  intact,  very  black,  with  very  shiny  knobs. 
It  was  doubtless  reserved  for  some  extra  special 
brand  of  German  officer.  But  what  I  did  pick  up, 
and  still  keep  in  my  collection  to  the  great  danger 
of  my  home,  was  a  chaplet  of  the  little  incendiary 
pastilles — each  about  the  size  of  a  shilling  and  with 
a  hole  in  the  middle  for  stringing  together — which 
the  Germans  used  to  ignite,  and  as  they  passed  fling 
in  through  the  windows  of  dwelling-houses. 

The  "  Hotel  Astoria,"  where  we  spent  our  first  night 
in  Brussels,  was  a  wonderful  sight,  for  it  had  been 
deprived  by  the  Germans  of  all  its  brass  fittings, 
including  the  electric  lights,  bath  taps,  door  handles, 
door  plates  and  even  keyholes.  All  the  woollen 
mattresses  and  the  table  and  bed  linen  were  of  course 
gone,  and  in  the  smart  restaurant  we  used  paper 
napkins  and  a  few  rusty  old  knives  and  forks  that 
had  escaped  the  general  looting. 

The  menu  resolved  itself  into  a  basin  of  soup  made 
from  Oxo  cubes,  which  we  provided,  and  a  few  slabs 
of  underdone  meat.  Bread  there  was  none,  but 
we  got  a  bottle  of  beer  amongst  four,  with  which  we 
had  to  be  content. 


HOLLAND  293 

The  next  day  we  were  carried  oft  from  the  hotel  to 
his  own  beautiful  house  in  the  Avenue  Marnix  by  Baron 
Lambert  de  Rothschild,  an  old  Paris  friend  of 
Walter's,  who  could  not  do  enough  to  make  our  stay 
pleasant.  Nor  could  we  have  revisited  Brussels  under 
more  delightful  auspices,  for  he  and  his  charming 
little  daughter,  Renee,  proved  most  capable  guides. 
They  had  lived  in  their  house  all  through  the  occupa- 
tion, and  by  dint  of  skilful  management  had  succeeded 
in  hiding  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  Hun  inquisitors 
the  really  beautiful  objets  d'art  with  which  the  house 
was  filled.  While  we  were  there  all  these  treasures 
were  again  being  brought  to  light  and  restored  to 
their  former  places. 

One  can  hardly  realize  what  the  Belgians  must 
have  gone  through  during  those  four  years  of  the 
occupation.  No  woman  dared  stir  abroad  without 
male  protection,  and  very  often  for  a  trivial  offence 
an  embargo  was  placed  upon  the  movements  of  inhabi- 
tants, who,  under  no  pretext,  not  even  to  fetch  a 
doctor  for  a  sick  person,  were  allowed  to  leave  their 
houses. 

The  stories  of  the  revolution  which  broke  up  the 
German  Army  were  incredible.  Ten  picked  agents 
from  the  Council  of  Soldiers  and  Workmen  in  Berlin 
arrived  in  Brussels  and  did  the  work  in  two  hours. 
The  Military  Governor  was  arrested  and  replaced  by 
a  soldier  wearing  a  red  cockade.  The  house  of  Prince 
Rupprecht  of  Bavaria  was  surrounded  by  soldiers 
with  machine-guns,  and  it  was  only  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  he  managed  to  escape  through  a  back 
door. 

Officers,  formerly  so  arrogant,  went  in  terror  of  their 
lives.  They  hid  in  garrets  and  cellars,  even  under 


294  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

mattresses  in  the  beds  of  the  hotels  ;  those  who  could 
escaped  by  train  from  such  places  as  Liege,  where 
the  stations  had  not  yet  been  blown  up.  There  was 
not  room  for  all ;  many  climbed  on  to  the  roofs  of 
the  carriages,  and  some  were  decapitated  passing 
through  the  tunnels.  Any  way  was  good  enough 
to  escape  the  fury  of  the  soldiers. 

Meanwhile  the  Belgians  rejoiced !  They  were  free 
at  last.  One  of  them  offered  to  show  us  his  house, 
in  which  the  Huns  had  spent  one  night  before  the 
evacuation.  It  was  one  of  a  row  of  houses  each  like 
the  other  in  a  small  side  street.  The  door  knocker 
and  handle  were  gone,  I  noticed,  but  he  pushed  open 
the  door  and  we  entered.  In  front  was  a  little  stair- 
case littered  with  straw  like  a  cowshed.  At  the  top 
of  the  stairs  was  the  coat  and  umbrella  stand  broken 
to  fragments.  We  passed  into  the  drawing-room, 
also  carpeted  with  straw.  Every  chair  and  sofa 
was  slashed  and  the  contents  bulging  from  the  holes. 
The  notes  of  the  piano  had  been  crammed  with  bread 
to  prevent  them  playing,  and  the  music  lay  around 
in  torn  fragments.  All  the  portraits  on  the  walls 
had  had  the  eyes  gouged  out  and  landscapes  were 
slashed  right  across.  We  went  upstairs  to  his  wife's 
bedroom.  The  mattresses  gaped  from  deep  incisions, 
the  looking-glass  had  been  smashed  with  a  hammer, 
and  the  doors  of  the  wardrobe  had  been  lifted  from 
their  hinges.  But  the  worst  sight  met  our  eyes  in 
the  dining-room.  We  stood  for  a  moment  contem- 
plating a  scene  of  wreckage  and  filth  such  as  defies 
description.  The  gentle  Germans  had  slept  in  this 
room,  and  before  going  had  left  their  marks  all  round 
the  dado.  The  smell  was  so  offensive  that  I  moved 
across  to  open  the  window,  but  my  guide  seized  me 


HOLLAND  295 

by  the  hand  and,  pointing  to  the  floor  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  exclaimed,  "  Gare,  Madame  !  Attention 
ou  vous  mettez  le  pied !  "  On  the  chimney-piece 
was  a  Sevres  vase.  Its  fellow  stood  apparently  intact 
on  the  floor.  "  Au  moins  ils  ont  epargne*  ce  vase 
de  Sevres,"  I  said  to  my  host,  and  turned  it  over  in 
my  hand  to  look  for  the  mark,  as  one  instinctively  does 
when  handling  a  good  bit  of  china.  But  "  Mon  Dieu  !  >J 
I  cried,  "  ils  en  ont  fait  un  vase  de  nuit !  "  Oh, 
the  Huns  !  was  ever  refinement  of  beastliness  equal 
to  theirs ! 

The  people  of  Brussels  were  rejoicing.  They  had 
brought  out  some  wonderful  statues  of  Victory  secretly 
made  in  plaster  during  the  occupation  to  figure  on 
the  great  day  of  deliverance.  Coloured  to  look  like 
bronze,  the  effect  they  made  was  grand,  and  the  King 
would  be  pleased  on  the  morrow,  they  said,  when  he 
entered  his  capital !  The  idea  seemed  to  me  charm- 
ing. All  over  the  town  they  were  busy  setting  them 
up. 

Whilst  in  Brussels,  we  dined  with  the  Spanish 
Minister,  the  Marquis  de  Villolobar,  the  best  friend 
Belgium  had  in  her  hour  of  need  and  the  most  deserv- 
edly popular  diplomatist  in  Brussels.  He  had  taken 
charge  of  us  the  moment  we  arrived  in  the  capital, 
and  had  made  every  arrangement  that  would  enable 
us  to  see  all  that  was  interesting  of  the  ceremonies 
that  filled  those  busy  days.  At  his  house  that  night 
I  sat  between  Cardinal  Mercier  and  Burgomaster 
Max,  two  of  the  most  arresting  figures  in  the  history 
of  the  German  occupation. 

Cardinal  Mercier,  the  courageous  prelate  who  sys- 
tematically defied  the  Hun  in  the  interest  of  his  flock, 
told  me  how  he  had  contrived  to  get  to  Rome  to 


296  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

answer  to  the  Pope  for  the  publication  of  his  famous 
Encyclical.  On  his  return,  he  crossed  to  England 
in  a  British  warship  and  was  received  by  King  George. 
Then  he  managed  to  slip  through  the  German  lines 
and  to  rejoin  his  people,  who  owed  everything  to 
his  courageous  moral  attitude.  He  was  a  splendid 
figure,  tall  and  ascetic,  in  crimson  robe  and  biretta, 
with  a  magnificent  jewelled  cross  hanging  from  a 
gold  chain  round  his  neck.  Burgomaster  Max,  my 
other  neighbour,  was  a  typical  bourgeois,  who  seemed 
none  the  worse  for  his  awful  experiences  in  a  Hun 
prison,  where  daily  his  tormentors  visited  him  offering 
him  freedom  in  return  for  a  betrayal  of  his  duty 
towards  his  country. 

One  day,  we  made  an  excursion  from  Brussels  to 
Louvain.  We  travelled  along  the  line  of  route  taken 
by  the  Germans  in  their  retreat  only  two  days  before. 
Everywhere  were  signs  of  their  passing — debris  of 
every  kind,  wrecked  cars,  blown-up  wagons  and 
ammunition  carriages,  for  what  they  couldn't  take 
with  them  they  destroyed.  A  Belgian  gentleman, 
by  name  M.  Dubois,  welcomed  us  in  his  house  and 
graphically  related  to  us  the  experiences  of  that  awful 
night,  the  first  of  the  invasion,  when  in  1914  the 
Germans  marchecj.  into  the  town  and  ordered  all  the 
inhabitants  to  report  themselves.  He  described  the 
agony  of  those  frightened  groups  in  the  squares  who 
waited,  not  knowing  what  would  happen  next.  A  call 
was  made  for  some  one  who  could  speak  German, 
in  answer  to  which  our  friend  stepped  forward.  His 
hands  were  then  tied  behind  his  back,  and,  prodded 
with  bayonets,  he  was  made  to  march,  almost  food- 
less  and  without  drink  for  five  days  and  five  nights 
at  the  head  of  the  army,  showing  them  the  way  to 


HOLLAND  297 

Brussels.  We  found  Louvain,  of  course,  in  ruins. 
The  beautiful  old  church  had  been  used  as  a  barracks 
by  the  Germans. 

Monsieur  Dubois  told  us  that  the  happiest  moment 
he  had  had  since  war  began  was  on  the  day  of  the 
evacuation  when  he  met  a  German  soldier  in  the 
street.  Emboldened  by  the  approaching  deliverance 
of  his  beloved  town,  he  stopped  the  soldier  and  asked 
him  if  it  was  true  he  was  going  back  to  Germany 
that  day.  "  Ja,  mein  Herr,"  answered  the  soldier. 
"  Then  take  that  back  with  you  !  "  said  Monsieur 
Dubois,  and  gave  him  a  resounding  smack  on  either 
cheek.  Fancy  an  unarmed  Belgian  striking  a  Hun ! 
What  a  priceless  experience ! 

On  November  23,  the  King  and  his  consort  re- 
entered  Brussels,  and,  thanks  to  the  kind  offices  of 
the  Spanish  Minister,  the  Marquis  de  Villolobar,  who 
contrived  that  I  should  be  given  all  the  privileges 
which  belonged  to  my  husband's  rank  in  the  Diplo- 
matic Service,  I  witnessed  the  ceremony  from  a  point 
of  vantage,  and  later  in  the  day  occupied  a  seat  in  the 
Loge  Diplomatique  when  H.M.  reopened  Parliament. 
With  him  riding  into  the  town,  was  the  Queen,  so 
beloved  of  the  people,  Prince  Albert  of  Windsor  in 
Flying  Corps  Uniform,  little  Princess  Marie  Josephine, 
her  golden  hair  loose  upon  her  shoulders,  the  Count  of 
Flanders,  tall  and  slim,  wearing  British  uniform  out 
of  compliment  to  his  father's  Ally,  and  Prince  Charles 
of  Brabant,  the  King's  younger  son,  in  the  uniform 
of  a  Dartmouth  Cadet,  The  crowd  went  mad  at 
sight  of  them  and  cheer  upon  cheer  woke  the  echoes. 
No  police  were  present,  the  King  having  expressed 
a  wish  to  General  Buffon,  in  command  of  the  Brussels 
garrison,  that  the  people  at  least  on  that  day  should 


298  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

be  absolutely  free.  But  he  consented  to  the  services 
of  the  Boy  Scouts  being  enlisted,  5,000  of  whom  had 
been  secretly  trained  during  the  occupation. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  the  King  was  received 
at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  by  Burgomaster  Max  and  the 
other  city  councillors.  We  looked  down  from  the 
balcony  upon  that  wonderful  old  Gothic  square,  and 
not  one  inch  of  it  was  vacant.  Yet  no  one  was  there 
to  guard  the  King's  approach  but  those  same  Boy 
Scouts. 

We  waited  upstairs  in  the  beautiful  tapestried  Hall 
for  the  moment  of  his  entrance,  and  when  the  door 
was  flung  open  and  a  herald  stepped  forward  and,  with 
a  fanfare  of  trumpets,  announced  "  Messieurs !  Le 
Roi !  '  the  scene  was  worthy  of  Rembrandt.  The 
King  stood  for  a  moment  framed  in  the  doorway, 
pale  with  emotion.  Then  he  stepped  forward  and 
shook  hands  with  the  city  dignitaries  and  other  guests 
present.  But  the  people  still  waited  without.  Pass- 
ing on  to  the  balcony,  he  showed  himself  to  them. 
The  dark  night  was  illumined  by  myriads  of  artificial 
lights,  which  shed  a  radiance  upon  thousands  of  up- 
turned faces  waiting  breathless  for  the  coming  of 
their  King.  When  at  last  they  saw  him,  thunder- 
ous applause  rent  the  air.  "  Long  live  King  Albert ! 
Long  live  our  King  !  "  He  bowed  gravely  in  response, 
then  passing  through  a  doorway  proceeded  to  sign 
his  name  in  the  Livre  d'Or,  that  historic  book  which 
during  the  whole  of  the  occupation  had  been  success- 
fully concealed  from  the  Germans  by  his  faithful 
subjects,  and  preserved  for  this  great  hour. 

On  the  following  day,  Cardinal  Mercier  received  the 
Royal  Family  at  the  door  of  the  Church  of  Ste  Gudule 
for  the  Service  of  Thanksgiving. 


HOLLAND  299 

Having  conducted  them  to  the  throne  prepared  for 
them,  he  turned  to  the  people  and  was  about  to  give 
them  the  Benediction,  when  a  burst  of  cheering 
broke  the  silence,  in  which  a  whole  people  gave  voice 
to  the  pent-up  feeling  of  years.  It  was  the  first 
time  such  a  thing  had  ever  happened  in  a  Catholic 
Church,  and  at  any  other  moment  it  would  have  seemed 
irreverent,  but  on  that  day  the  Cardinal,  who  under- 
stood human  nature  from  his  long  and  intimate  deal- 
ings with  it,  realized  that  there  are  moments  even 
in  the  life  of  a  nation  when  suppressed  emotion  must 
find  a  natural  outlet. 

So  he  waited  on  the  altar  steps,  with  hand  uplifted, 
a  kindly  smile  upon  his  face,  till  the  cheer  died  down, 
and  the  people  knelt  again  while  he  completed  the 
half -finished  gesture  of  Benediction. 

In  August,  1918,  Walter  was  approached  by  a  Dutch 
emissary,  evidently  inspired  from  German  official 
sources,  who  put  before  him  the  whole  circumstantial 
story  of  a  proposed  German  plot  having  for  its  object 
an  anti-Monarchical  revolution  in  Germany,  designed 
to  meet  President  Wilson's  declaration  that  no  nego- 
tiations for  peace  would  be  entertained  which  emanated 
from  a  Government  having  a  Hohenzollern  at  its 
head.  A  revolution  which  would  sweep  aside  the 
whole  Hohenzollern  regime  would,  it  was  hoped,  pave 
the  way  to  the  opening  of  peace  negotiations. 

Every  detail  of  the  proposed  revolution  was  set 
forth,  the  names  of  those  engineering  it  were  dis- 
closed, and  it  was  asserted  that  the  Emperor  himself 
was  a  party  to  the  plan.  The  date  for  the  change  of 
Government  was  given  as  November  i.  But  it  was 
cynically  disclosed  at  the  same  time  that  the  revolu- 
tion would  be  but  a  sham,  organized  for  the  purpose  of 


300  'INDISCRETIONS' 

establishing  conditions  which  would  tempt  the  Allies 
to  a  discussion  of  peace  terms,  and  that  as  soon  as 
possible  it  would  be  followed  by  a  counter-stroke 
re-establishing  the  old  order — with  one  change. 
Instead  of  the  deposed  Emperor  being  restored,  his 
grandson  would  be  raised  to  the  Throne  and  a  Regency 
established. 

Prince  Henry  of  Prussia  was  named  as  the  probable 
Regent,  the  belief  being  that  he  would  be  specially 
acceptable  to  the  British. 

The  Dutch  emissary  was  quickly  enlightened  as  to 
the  feeling  entertained  in  England  for  the  Kaiser's 
brother,  and  at  a  subsequent  interview  he  professed 
to  have  made  a  mistake.  Prince  Max  of  Baden  was 
the  proposed  Regent,  not  Prince  Henry. 

Such  was  the  story  brought  to  the  Legation,  and 
the  fact  that  the  revolution  subsequently  did  take 
place,  and  almost  to  the  day  on  the  date  named,  goes 
far  to  prove  that  in  the  main  it  was  a  true  one  and 
inspired  by  official  Germany.  Yet  when  Walter 
reported  it  to  the  Foreign  Office  it  was  received  with 
scepticism  and  there  were  some  highly  placed  persons 
who,  judging  by  past  experience,  pooh-poohed  the 
idea  of  so  well-disciplined  a  people  as  the  Germans 
seeking  peace  in  revolution. 

Revolution  was  certainly  "  in  the  air  "  in  1918. 
We  even  had  a  threat  of  it  at  The  Hague.  Rumours 
of  the  expected  German  revolution  were  designedly 
circulated  in  the  neighbouring  country,  and  late 
in  the  summer  of  1918  this  seed  began  to  bear  fruit, 
a  great  impression  being  made  by  it,  which  the  Socia- 
list Party  was  quick  to  improve  and  make  use  of. 
The  Dutch  Socialists  are  a  large  and  active  party, 
and  wielded  at  that  time  considerable  influence  in 


HOLLAND  301 

the  country,  only  one  other  part — the  Catholic — 
being  able  to  hold  its  own  against  them. 

So  puffed  up  and  elate  did  the  Socialists  become  by 
the  success  of  the  German  Revolution  that  the  autumn 
found  them  openly  boasting  of  their  intention  to  upset 
the  existing  form  of  government  in  Holland  and 
replace  it  by  a  Republic  on  German  lines.  They 
even  had  the  audacity  and  foolhardiness  to  proclaim 
the  date  of  their  intended  coup,  which  they  fixed 
for  November  18 — ten  days  ahead. 

This  over-confidence  defeated  its  own  end.  It 
put  the  weapon  of  preparedness  into  the  hands  of 
the  anti-revolutionary  party,  who  had  thus  been 
given  time  to  take  the  necessary  steps  for  countering 
the  Socialist  move.  The  head  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Party,  which  in  the  Netherlands  is  an  extremely  strong 
and  well-organized  body,  acted  in  this  emergency 
with  all  the  intelligence  and  political  foresight  which 
mark  his  hold  upon  the  organization  he  controls. 

Quickly  and  secretly  he  circulated  throughout  the 
country  his  instructions  as  to  the  steps  to  be  taken 
to  counteract  the  feared  disturbance,  and  to  secure 
the  safety  of  the  Royal  Family  and  the  town.  Special 
troops  and  police  were  drafted  in  :  the  public  depart- 
ments and  all  public  buildings  were  guarded  by 
machine-guns,  and  shop  windows  were  securely  barri- 
caded. The  tension  which  had  prevailed  began  to 
relax,  however,  before  the  date  fixed  for  the  revolu- 
tion had  arrived,  for  it  was  pretty  well  known  ere  the 
fateful  November  18  dawned  that  the  movement 
had  been  nipped  in  the  bud  by  the  prompt  measures 
taken  to  suppress  it. 

The  Queen's  personal  attitude  at  that  time  was  a 
factor  which  counted  greatly  in  saving  the  situation. 


304  '  INDISCRETIONS ' 

Our  mutual  love  of  children  helped  us  out  on  these 
occasions,  and  on  the  subject  of  English  babies,  whom 
she  deemed  adorable,  and  our  English  ways  of  educa- 
tion, we  found  a  common  meeting  ground. 

Domestic  life  in  the  Royal  Palace  at  The  Hague 
centred  round  Princess  Juliana,  the  Queen's  one  little 
daughter.  Yet  the  child  was  not  spoilt,  and  had  to 
undergo  the  same  thorough  education  which  her 
mother  had  herself  received  to  fit  her  for  her  future 
great  position. 

During  the  war  all  entertaining  at  the  palace  was 
abandoned,  and  it  was  whispered  that  the  Queen  did 
not  regret  the  necessity  for  this,  as  she  does  not  care 
for  this  form  of  hospitality.  Even  the  tea-parties 
which  used  to  be  given  for  the  Princess  were  abandoned, 
so  that  the  child  saw  and  knew  very  few  people. 

Incredible  as  it  may  sound,  I  must  confess  to  having 
never  set  eyes  on  her  during  the  two  years  or  more 
that  we  were  at  The  Hague.  In  winter,  I  believe, 
she  was  allowed  to  skate  on  the  public  rinks,  but 
apart  from  this  her  daily  drive  seems  to  have  been 
the  only' occasion  on  which  she  was  seen  in  public. 

The  Queen's  favourite  pastime  is  riding.  Her 
passionate  love  of  horses  exhibits  her  in  one  of  her 
most  attractive  roles,  that  of  a  fearless  Amazon.  She 
allows  no  horse  to  be  bought  for  her  that  she  has 
not  previously  tried  herself,  and  occasionally  will  even 
break  in  a  young  horse  for  her  personal  use. 

At  Scheveningen,  when  the  Court  was  in  residence 
there  during  the  summer,  she  was  sometimes  seen  out 
before  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  enjoying  a  hard 
gallop  along  the  edge  of  the  sea.  One  can  imagine 
the  pleasure  of  those  early  rides  to  a  woman  hedged 
in  all  day  by  the  trammels  of  Court  life. 


LADY  SUSAN  TOWN  LEY,  1922 


HOLLAND  305 

At  Scheveningen  also,  she  indulged  her  other  great 
passion,  that  of  Art.  Queen  Wilhelmina  is  an  artist 
of  no  mean  talent.  Her  watercolour  sketches  are 
charming,  and  many  is  the  picturesque  street  corner 
or  canal  she  has  committed  to  canvas  before  her 
subjects  are  awake  in  the  morning.  She  loves  sketch- 
ing from  Nature  and  chooses  that  early  hour  because 
she  is  then  less  likely  to  attract  attention.  Few  people, 
unless  they  knew  her  by  sight,  would  be  likely  to 
suspect  that  the  simple  artist  sketching  by  the  way- 
side was  the  Queen  of  the  Netherlands  ! 

We  were  frightfully  busy  at  The  Hague  after  the 
signing  of  the  Armistice. 

The  Prisoners  of  War  were  wild  with  excitement 
at  the  rapid  march  of  events,  beating  their  wings 
against  the  bars  of  the  cage  so  soon  to  be  opened. 
Both  officers  and  N.C.O.'s  now  had  to  be  repatriated 
as  soon  as  arrangements  could  be  made.  How  much 
one  would  miss  them !  What  a  big  void  their  going 
would  leave!  But  one  rejoiced  wholeheartedly  for 
them.  Imagine  freedom  after  four  years,  and  in  some 
cases  more,  of  "  control,"  to  apply  the  mildest  term 
to  the  durance  vile  they  had  suffered  ! 

I  think  it  was  their  going  that  made  us  begin  to 
sigh  definitely  for  our  own  release.  We  were  beginning 
to  feel  the  strain  of  so  diversified  an  existence  as  ours 
had  been  during  the  last  25  years. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  'INDISCRETIONS'  OF  LADY  SUSAN 

I  HAVE  been  in  fifty  minds  about  writing  this 
last  chapter,  because  in  it  I  must  justify  the 
title  of  my  book.  It  is  only  fair,  however,  to  my 
husband  that  I  should  state  how  it  came  about  that  I 
unwittingly  checked  a  career  which,  judged  upon  its 
own  merits,  ought  admittedly  to  have  had  a  brilliant 
ending. 

When  the  war  was  over  and  private  individuals, 
like  Governments,  began  to  review  the  situation  in 
the  light  of  recent  developments,  Walter  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  unless  Diplomacy  offered  in  the 
near  future  a  real  bait  to  ambition,  he  would  sooner 
retire  from  it. 

We  were  both  tired  of  our  long  exile  abroad. 
To  be  quite  honest,  we  were  more  particularly  tired 
of  the  "  habit "  acquired  by  the  Prime  Minister 
during  the  war  of  popping  the  plums  of  our  Service 
into  the  mouths  of  ex-Cabinet  Ministers  and  others, 
although  in  most  cases  they  had  no  claim  to  them, 
being  devoid  of  that  expert  training  which  is  necessary 
for  the  proper  fulfilment  of  the  functions  appertaining 
to  so  highly  specialized  a  profession. 

"Amateur"  diplomacy  does  not  always  work  the 
wonders  expected  of  it,  as  was  proved  only  the  other 
day  at  Genoa  when  Mr.  Lloyd  George  was  confronted 

306 


THE  '  INDISCRETIONS  '  OF  LADY  SUSAN     307 

at  the  Council  Table  with  a  Russo-German  Agree- 
ment negotiated  in  Berlin,  the  existence  of  which, 
he  is  reported  to  have  said,  came  upon  him  as  a 
complete  surprise.  This  to  "trained'*  diplomacy 
seems  inexplicable.  How  could  such  an  Agreement 
have  escaped  the  vigilance  of  "  the  man  on  the  spot  "  ? 
But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  aware  of  its  existence,  why 
did  the  Premier  not  take  the  Nation  into  his  confidence 
concerning  it  when  he  sought  his  Genoa  mandate  in 
the  House  of  Commons  ? 

But  to  return  to  my  point.  This  little  weakness 
of  the  Prime  Minister's  so  discouraged  Walter  that 
he  decided  to  put  his  future  to  an  early  test,  and  to 
that  end  went  to  London  in  December,  1918,  to  have 
a  talk  with  the  Private  Secretary  to  the  Secretary  of 
State  for  Foreign  Affairs. 

He  did  not  beat  about  the  bush,  but  asked  straight 
out  what  his  prospects  were.  After  a  slight  hesitation 
the  Private  Secretary  came  out  with  the  statement 
that  it  was  useless  for  him  to  count  upon  the  future, 
as,  although  his  own  record  was  first-rate,  the  "  indis- 
cretions of  Lady  Susan  "  had  made  it  impossible  to 
advance  him  further  in  the  Service.  Asked  what 
he  meant  by  so  astounding  a  pronouncement,  the 
Private  Secretary  replied  vaguely  with  some  gener- 
ality, and,  whilst  expressing  his  sincere  regret  at  having 
to  be  the  mouthpiece  of  so  disagreeable  an  intimation, 
begged  that  Walter  would  take  nothing  from  him 
as  final,  but  would  see  Lord  Hardinge  himself,  the 
Under  Secretary  of  State. 

Walter  accordingly  sought  out  Lord  Hardinge,  who 
received  him  by  appointment  in  his  own  house,  and, 
after  murmuring  something  about  Lady  Susan  and 
the  ex-Kaiser,  adopted  his  most  pompous  manner 


308  THE  'INDISCRETIONS' 

and  pleaded  that  the  whole  subject  was  so  painful 
that  he  could  not  enter  into  it.  He  merely  wished 
to  confirm  what  the  Private  Secretary  had  said. 

The  reason  given  by  the  Private  Secretary  being 
so  obviously  trumped  up,  and  one,  moreover,  so 
closely  affecting  the  honour  of  his  wife,  Walter  gener- 
ously concluded  that  in  some  unexplained  way  he 
was  personally  to  blame  and  had  forfeited  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Foreign  Office.  Acting  upon  this 
surmise,  and  feeling  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
his  services  could  no  longer  be  of  value  to  the  country, 
he  straightway  sent  in  his  resignation  to  Mr.  Balfour, 
then  Foreign  Secretary,  addressing  it  to  him  in  Paris, 
where  he  was  at  the  moment. 

To  this  Mr.  Balfour  replied  that,  far  from  having 
forfeited  the  confidence  of  His  Majesty's  Government, 
my  husband's  valuable  services  were  fully  recognized 
and  greatly  appreciated.  He  could,  however,  hold  out 
no  prospect  of  his  further  advancement  in  the  Service 
for  reasons  into  which  it  was  unnecessary  to  enter,  but 
which  he  understood  had  been  informally  explained  to 
him.  Note  the  phrases  in  italics  in  conjunction  with 
the  fact  of  what  they  meant  to  a  man  who  had  spent 
over  thirty-three  years  in  the  service  of  his  country. 

Mr.  Balfour,  although  accepting  Walter's  resigna- 
tion, appealed  to  his  public  spirit  not  to  insist  upon 
its  taking  effect  at  once,  and  begged  him  to  remain 
at  his  post  until  Peace  should  be  signed. 

Although  this  appeared  to  me  rather  a  tall  order, 
to  use  a  slang  phrase,  seeing  that  I  was  not  considered 
sufficiently  discreet  to  make  my  husband's  promotion 
possible,  I  would  not  go  against  the  public  spirit  which 
prompted  him  to  accede  to  a  request  made  in  the  interest 
of  the  country.  He  therefore  consented  to  remain 


OF  LADY  SUSAN  309 

at  The  Hague  until  July  i,  by  which  time  he  deemed 
that  Peace  would  be  signed — not  a  bad  shot  as  it  turned 
out,  for  it  was  actually  signed  on  June  28. 

In  his  letter  to  Mr.  Balfour  intimating  this  decision, 
Walter  added  that,  in  fairness  to  himself,  considering 
how  vital  the  matter  was  to  his  career  which  now  was 
to  end  in  what  must  appear  failure  to  the  outside  world, 
he  begged  the  favour  of  a  personal  explanation  from 
the  Secretary  of  State  on  his  return  to  England, 
as  he  was  not  satisfied  to  accept  judgment  of  his  case 
second-hand  and  "  informally "  from  the  Private 
Secretary  in  the  Department.  This  explanation  was 
promised  by  Mr.  Balfour,  but  to  this  day  it  has  never 
been  vouchsafed,  though  opportunity  can  hardly  be 
said  to  have  been  wanting. 

Walter's  friends  at  the  Foreign  Office,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  were  most  sympathetic  in  this 
matter.  One  of  them  wrote  him  a  private  letter,  which 
I  have  kept.  "  I  deplore  more  than  ever,"  it  said, 
"  your  decision  to  leave  us.  As  I  look  down  that 
blooming  list  of  Diplomats,  I  fail  to  see  a  better 
man,  and  it  gives  me  a  real  pang  to  think  that 
you  are  abandoning  us ! " 

Almost  immediately  upon  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  my  husband's  resignation  came  certain  questions 
asked  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  Mr.  Bottomley, 
who  presumed  to  call  in  question  my  loyalty  by 
asking  the  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs 
whether  he  was  aware  that  I  was  a  member  of  a 
Committee  which  received  the  ex-Kaiser  on  his  arrival 
in  Holland. 

Captain  Craig  (Antrim,  S.),  interposing  before  an 
answer  could  be  given,  asked  whether  it  was  in  accord- 
ance with  usage  that  a  Member  should  avail  himself 


3io  THE  '  INDISCRETIONS  ' 

of  the  privileges  of  the  House  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  so  grave  a  charge  against  a  lady.  The  Speaker 
allowed  the  question.  It  does  not  seem  to  me 
to  be  "  playing  the  game  "  to  allow  a  charge  to  be 
brought  against  a  woman  in  a  place  where  she  is 
debarred  from  defending  her  good  name.  The  Speaker 
was,  however,  entitled,  I  am  told,  by  the  usage  of 
the  House,  to  make  the  decision  he  did.  I  would 
undoubtedly  have  brought  an  action  for  libel  against 
Bottomley  had  he  not  formulated  his  charge  in  a 
privileged  place.  This  was  doubtless  why  he  selected 
the  House  of  Commons  in  which  to  attack  me. 

The  Foreign  Office  alone  were  in  a  position  to  defend 
my  good  name,  for  they  knew  my  record  during  the 
war,  and  the  true  circumstances  of  the  case.  But  their 
Representative  in  the  House  confined  his  remarks  to 
stating  that  as  no  Committee  of  Reception  had  been 
organized,  I  could  not  have  headed  it,  or  words  to 
that  effect. 

I  hope  I  may  be  forgiven  if  I  show  a  certain  animus 
on  this  question.  I  feel  very  strongly  about  it.  After 
twenty-five  years  devoted  to  playing  my  humble 
part  in  my  husband's  life-work  for  his  country,  to  be 
branded  as  "  indiscreet  "  is  no  light  matter,  nor  was 
it  pleasant  to  be  used  as  the  whip  to  lash  him  out 
of  the  Service.  The  only  thanks  he  got  on  quitting 
the  Foreign  Office,  the  only  recognition  of  his  services 
vouchsafed,  was  a  laconic  intimation  from  the  chief 
clerk  of  the  Foreign  Office  that  the  Treasury  had 
granted  him  a  pension  of  £1,300  a  year ! 

Of  course,  I  am  aware  that  if  the  Foreign  Office 
consider  it  worth  while  to  defend  themselves  against 
this  feeble  criticism  of  their  ways,  they  have  but  to 
say  that  in  the  Diplomatic  Service  all  cannot  attain 


OF  LADY  SUSAN 

to  Ambassadorial  rank.  They  will  add  that,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  the  highest  diplomatic  positions  have 
always  been  decided  by  selection  rather  then  seniority, 
and  that  the  Secretary  of  State  is  not  called  upon 
to  explain  why  certain  Ministers  close  their  careers 
at  Legations  whilst  others  attain  to  Embassies. 

Quite  so,  but  in  this  case  I  happen  to  have  been 
told  before  the  war,  by  a  responsible  authority  in 
the  Foreign  Office,  that  Walter's  work  in  Persia  had 
given  so  much  satisfaction  that  it  was  probable 
he  would  get  the  Embassy  in  Berlin  when  it  should 
fall  vacant  at  the  expiry  of  the  term  of  Sir  Edward 
Goschen.  I  was  even  authorized  to  write  to  him  to 
this  effect,  which  I  did  in  a  letter  which  he  has  kept. 

On  July  i,  1919,  my  husband  made  his  bow  to  the 
public,  retiring  from  the  stage  of  Foreign  Affairs 
after  playing  his  difficult  part  thereon  for  thirty-four 
years.  We  are  now  living  in  the  country  and  breeding 
large  black  pigs,  which,  if  not  quite  so  interesting,  is 
at  least  more  remunerative  and  less  exacting  than 
Diplomacy. 


INDEX 


Abdul  Hamid,  126-30 
Albemarle,  General  Lord,  175 
Albemarle,  George,  6th  Earl,  11-21 
Albemarle,  Lord  Bury,  7th  Earl  of, 

28;  42 
Albert,  King  of  the  Belgians,  278-9  ; 

297-9 

Alexeiew,  Admiral,  123-4 
Amelie,  Queen,  37-8 
American  Newspapers,  169-72  ;  197- 

9 

Asquith,  Mrs.,  170 
Astor,  Mrs.,  179 

Balfour,  Earl,  231  ;  308-9 
Bieberstein,  Count  Marshal  von,  128, 

149 

Bismarck,  Count  Herbert,  63 
Blucher,  15 
Boer  War,  62-7 
Boni,  Professor,  73-6 
Bottomley,  Horatio,  309-10 
Brockdorff,  Countess,  61-2 
Brougham,  Lord,  20 
Bulow,  Countess,  61-2 

Carlos,  King,  37-8 

Caroline,  Queen,  18-20 

Censorship,  254-6 

Charles  of  Rumania,  King,  231 

Charlotte,  Princess,  13-15;   18 

Clemenceau's     opinion     of     Lloyd 

George,  231 
Craig,  Capt.,  310 

De  Clifford,  Lady,  11-14 
Dubois,  M.,  296-7 


Du  Cros,  Major,  254-6 
Durand,  Lady,  198 

Edward,  King,  42-3  ;   121-5 
Elena,  Queen,  71 

Elizabeth  of  Rumania,  Queen  (Car- 
men Sylva),  221-5 

Fox,  Charles,  12 
Frederick,  Emperor,  41-3 
Frederick,  Empress,  40-3 
Fryatt,  Capt.,  269-72 

George,    David    Lloyd,    opinion    of 

Clemenceau,  231 
Gortchakoff,  Prince,  35 
Grierson,  General,  63 

Hardinge,  Lord,  308 
Harem  Life,  130-47 
Hart,  Sir  Robert,  85-6 
Henry  of  Pless,  Princess,  57-61 
Hill,  Lord,  16-17 
Hohenlohe,  Prince,  56-7 
Hoz,  M.  M.  de,  207-1 1 

James,  Henry,  177,  182,  184 
Joachim  Albrecht,  Prince,  51-3 

Keppel,  Sir  Harry,  29-30 
Keppel,  Viscount,  21,  175 
Keppel,  William,  12 
Keppel,  see  also  Albemarle 
Kettler,  Baron  von,  103-4 


Lasceltes,    Sir    Frank,    43;     65-7 


313 


314 


INDEX 


Leo  XIII.  76-7 

Li-Hung  Chang,  107-11 

Loti,  Pierre,  134 ;   137 

Louis  of  Battenberg,  Prince,  179 

Macdonald,  Sir  Claude,  in  ;   115 
Mackensen,  General,  230 
Mackenzie,  General,  16 
Macnab>  Sir  Allan,  24 
Marie,  of  Rumania,  Queen,  226-8 
Max,  Burgomaster,  295-6;    298 
Mercier,  Cardinal,  295-6  ;  298 
Meyendorff,  Count,  35 
Muzaffer-ed-Din,  235 

Nasr-ed-Din,  Shah,  233-5 
Onnen,  General,  283 
Pallavicini,  Count,  231 

Rhodes,  Cecil,  47-8 
Roosevelt,  Theodore,  192-6 
Rosen,  Dr.  and  Frau,  258-60 
Rumanian  Peace  Treaty,  232 
Rupprecht,  Prince,  293 
Russell,  Theo,  307-8 
Russo-Japanese  War,  121-5 

Salamlik,  139-44 
Sandford,  Lieut.,  267 
Satow,  Sir  Ernest,  80-1  ;  84  ;  99 
Several,  Marquis  de,  34-5 
Sultan  Ahmed,  Shah,  236-43 
Sulzer,  Marie,  52 

Sylva,    Carmen,    see    Elizabeth    of 
Rumania,  Queen 

Taft,  William,  193-5 


Tidy,  Col.,  16-17 

Townley,  Lady  Susan,  at  Berlin, 
39-70 ;  Bucharest,  221-32 ; 
Buenos  Ayres,  200-20  ;  Con- 
stantinople, 126-49 ;  Holy 
Land,  150-68 ;  Lisbon,  33-8 ; 
Peking,  78-120 ;  Persia,  233- 
53  ;  Rome,  71-7 ;  Washington, 
169-99 ;  birth  and  early  recol- 
lections, 11-32;  "Indiscre- 
tions," 306-11;  marriage,  32; 
work  in  Belgium,  254-79  ;  work 
for  Censorship,  254-6 ;  work 
in  Holland,  280-305  ;  and  pas- 
sim. 

Trotter,  Sir  Coutts,  23 

Tse  Hsi,  Empress- Dowager  of  China, 
86-102 ;  116-120 

Victoria,  Queen,  20  ;  22-3 
Villolobar,  Marquis  de,  295 ;    297 

Walsham,  Sir  John,  39 

Wangenheim,  Count,  35-6 

Waterford,  Lady,  29-30 

Wilhelmina,  Queen,  301-5 

William,  Kaiser,  appearance  of,  54 ; 
arrival  in  Holland,  284-9  ;  Boer 
War,  64-5 ;  dislike  of  Jews, 
45  ;  opinion  of  German  Women, 
53  ;  opinion  of  British  Navy, 
44-5 ;  visits  Sultan  and  Holy 
Land,  128-29,  165-6;  and 
passim 

William  of  Wied,  Prince,  50 

Wood,  Sir  Evelyn,  31-2 

Yuan  Shih  Kai,  93-9 ;  119 


(D 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


JAN  HIS**. 

ft 

ill    OCT18 

MAY] 


1989 


